Harry Potter and the Marauders of the Mind
by Moonsign
Summary: Post-DH, Pre-Epilogue. The Wizarding world is slowly recovering, and Hogwarts is re-opened. Harry Potter struggles to become a good DADA teacher, but it’s hard when a large portion of his mind is commandeered by four familiar Marauders. Slash and het.
1. The First Intrusion

**Harry Potter and the ****Marauders of the Mind**

**Summary: Post-DH, Pre-Epilogue. The wizarding world is recovering and Hogwarts is re-opened****. Harry Potter struggles to become a good DADA teacher, but it's hard when a large portion of his mind is commandeered by four familiar Marauders. Will probably be some slash later on. **

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling**

**A/N: Had a random inspiration to write this story. It just popped into my head and wouldn't leave.  
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**The First Intrusion**

It took a long time for the wizarding world to reorientate itself after the final battle. It was a chaotic whirl of rounding up Death Eaters, funerals for loved ones, infighting at the Ministry of Magic and rebuilding Hogwarts.

Strangely, no one questioned that the restoration and reopening of the most famous school of witchcraft and wizardry should take priority in the rebuilding of the wizarding world itself. Although it was never explicitly said, there was an overall feeling throughout Britain that the moment Hogwarts reopened for a new year, with Professor McGonagall as its new Headmistress, would be the moment that life would begin to return to normal.

Harry Potter, through all this, strove, above everything, to keep to the himself. The eighteen-year-old Boy Who lived Again And Then Proceeded To Beat The Dark Lord (and wished everyday that someone would come up with a less cumbersome title) retreated, against his friends wishes, to his Godfather's house, where he struggled to come to terms with his own part in the battle.

"Harry, you know you're always welcome to stay with us at The Burrow until everything is settled down," Ron pleaded with him, when he and Hermione dropped by one evening, ten months after the Battle of Hogwarts. "It's not healthy living here all on your own. You need to get out and do something."

"I _am _doing something," Harry said stubbornly, as he placed mugs of tea in front of his friends. "I'm making this house habitable again. And I'm not on my own, I've got Kreacher." He sent a smile at the ugly little house elf who bustled round the kitchen cooking dinner, dressed in a tea-towel toga and Regulus Black's locket.

"House elves don't count!" Ron said, ignoring the look Hermione shot him at this statement. "You can't hide from the world forever, you know."

Harry ducked his head and stirred his tea rather viciously. He couldn't explain it to his friends. He couldn't make them understand that it was okay for them, because they had each other, and families that were really _theirs. _They were happy, and slowly recovering from the shock of the war, while he unable to follow them.

Ginny had tried to restart their relationship in the few months following Voldemort's defeat, but Harry found that he couldn't do it. There was a yawning gap between them, filled with the dead of the war, and he could find no way to cross it. It was the very reason he had been able to walk to his death on the day of the final battle. He really had nothing to lose anymore. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Fred, Tonks…so many people dead.

And then he had seen them there – James, Lily, Sirius and Remus, brought forth by the Resurrection Stone - and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get them out of his head. It was the obsession that the Deathly Hallows story had warned him about – that irresistible longing to _be _with them and _talk _to them again. That single moment when he had been part of his _own _family, not someone else's; a second-hand family like the Weasleys who he loved, but would never be his.

He dreamed about them at night. Odd dreams where he was somewhere fuzzy, unable to make out shapes, but hearing their voices in his head. They bickered and laughed together, joked and conversed more seriously. Afterwards, He always remembered the warmth and love in these dreams, but never the conversations themselves. In spite of this, the dreams were getting more vivid and more frequent over the year following Voldemort's defeat. Sometimes he almost imagined he could hear him in the back of his mind while he was awake. At times like this, he genuinely wondered if this is what it felt like to go insane.

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said, breaking into his musings. "You can't stay locked away forever. That's sort of what we came to talk about actually. I've been helping Professor McGonagall with getting Hogwarts together to open this coming September. She hasn't been able to get hold of you. Those wards you've put up against owls are really a bit over the top, don't you think? Anyway, I said I'd ask you."

"Ask me what?" Harry asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Whether you will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Hermione and Ron watched him carefully for his reaction. They did a lot of things around him carefully now, as though he might break if they pressed to hard.

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his messy black fringe and his mouth gaped open. "They want me to be a teacher?" he demanded. "I'll only be nineteen!"

"You're the Defeater of the Dark Lord," Ron said. "No one will dare mess around in your classes."

"She offered for me to be the Transfiguration teacher as well," Hermione said. "But I'll only go if you do."

"No!" Harry said firmly. _Him? A teacher? _For a moment he thought he heard a snort of laughter inside his head that didn't belong to him, which didn't make sense. For a second he thought of Voldemort, but there was no familiar auror of nauseating evil and corruption. Just his imagination, then. It had to be. "No. Definitely not."

"Harry…"

"No! That's my final answer!"

* * *

_I'm insane_, Harry thought, as he sat at the head table and stared down at the students who were filing into the hall. _I've finally gone insane and that's why I'm doing this. _He felt uptight and uncomfortable in the smart, new teaching robes Hermione made him wear, and he was aware of hundreds of eyes staring at him. It reminded him of that time second year when everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin. It was strange being back at Hogwarts. The witches and wizards who had restored the school had done a wonderful job. The Great Hall looked as amazing as it always did at the opening feast. The four long students' tables, each overhung with their own banner, and the staff table set up on a raised dais in front. The floating candles drifted beneath the enchanted ceiling which reflected the clear night sky.

_:__-You never told us the view was so cool from up here, Moony.-:_

Harry jumped. "What?" he said aloud.

"I didn't say anything, m'boy!" Professor Slughorn assured him jovially. Harry wondered how much the fat potions master had been offered to agree to teach another year, seeing as he knew how hard it had been to get him back in the first place

"Nothing," he mumbled. "I just thought I heard something."

_:__-They all look so little…-:_

"Hermione?" Harry glanced to his left at the sound of the woman's voice.

"Yes?" she looked up.

"Did you say something?"

Hermione frowned at him. "Are you alright? You look a bit pale. I didn't say anything."

"I thought I heard – "

_:-Is he talking about us? Harry, CAN YOU HEAR US?-:_

Harry jumped violently and almost fell off his chair.

_:-He can! Harry, listen. It's us, it's – -:_

_:-Harry, listen, we're not sure how we got – -:_

_:-Do you know who it is, Pronglet? We just – -:_

_:-Don't listen to them, Harry! Calm down, you – -:_

It was a cacophony of voices in his head, getting louder and louder as they struggled to be heard. It was clear from the fact that no one else reacted that he was the only one that heard them. He felt his breath shortening and his vision going fuzzy as he recognised two of the voices. Two voices that he should never have been able to hear or recognise again.

"Harry? _Harry?_" Hermione was shaking his arm, but he could barely hear her over the other voices.

_:-You're not going crazy, we really are here!-:_

_:-…snuck in while the doors were open. You know, at the inbetween-station with old Dumbles – -:_

_:-…because of the Ressurection Stone, and we just hung on, and wouldn't go back – -:_

_:-…must breathe, Harry. SHUT UP, YOU LOT! Listen Harry, we can explain – -:_

"Harry! You're hyperventilating. Calm down!"

There were hands on his back and someone tried to make him drink something cold.

Then it was black.


	2. Believable Excuses 101

**Disclaimers: Harry and all the Marauders in his head belong to the amazing JK Rowling.**

**Hi!**

**Well after such a positive response to the first chapter, how can I not continue? Here's the next chapter. Review and let me know what you think, please!**

**Moonsign x**

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**Believable Excuses 101**

_:-It was your fault. You boys frightened him. You should have just let me talk.-:_

Harry woke to the sound of a young woman's voice talking nearby. He teetered in-between sleep and wakefulness, listening absently.

_:-He doesn't even know your voice, Evans. It would have been better to hear it from someone he knows, rather than some stranger that's set up camp in his head,-:_ said another male voice that sounded tantalisingly familiar, though why, his sleepy mind couldn't quite grasp.

_:-Oh right, it's better for him to hear it from someone he knows is DEAD.-:_ The woman's voice reminded him a little bit of Hermione, though it held a twinge of underlying amusement that Hermione's scolding often lacked.

_:-Yeah…well…YOU'RE dead TOO!-:_ the man's voice said rather sulkily.

_:-Wow, mate. That was one hell of a comeback. That really showed her.-: _This voice was also male, though slightly deeper than the last one.

_:-Oh, go off somewhere and eat grass, you sorry excuse for a herbivore.-:_

Harry slipped further into wakefulness.

_:-Yeah? Well you go off and lick your – -:_

_:-Hey! I think he's waking up!-: _another voice interrupted suddenly, and now that he was more awake, Harry recognised it immediately.

"Professor Lupin?" he asked tentatively, opening his eyes. The first two male voices sniggered and muttered the word 'professor' under their breaths. Glancing around, Harry saw that he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. The _empty_ Hogwarts hospital wing. There was no one else in the room. Slowly, the events in the Great Hall filtered through into his mind again. Voices in his head. Speaking from experience, this was never a good thing.

"Hello?" he said tentatively, while thinking _Oh, Merlin, I really have gone insane. The prophet will have a field day with this one._

_:-HELLO!-: _four voices chorused eagerly.

"Er…where are you?"

There was an odd feeling in the back of his head then, as though his thoughts were having a mental scuffle over who got to voice themselves first.

_:-In your head, love,-: _said the voice of the woman, who had apparently come out on top.

"Okay." Harry wondered what the food was like on the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's. He hoped they wouldn't put him in a bed near Lockhart's. "_Who _are you?" he decided to add, wondering what possible explanation his unconscious brain had for making up these voices.

_:-Remember the Resurrection Stone?-: _the voice asked kindly. _:-Do you remember what it did when you held it?-:_

"Oh, Merlin," Harry murmured. "I knew being a teacher was going to drive me insane."

_:-You haven't even taught any classes yet,-: _the voice that sounded disturbingly like Sirius's pointed out.

"Yeah, but I've _thought _about teaching them."

_:-Good boy!-: _the Remus-voice said proudly. _:-You should always plan your lessons ahead.-:_

_:-Can we get back to the topic at hand?-: _The woman's voice said tartly. There was an embarrassed shuffling in his head and Harry got the distinct pink-glowing impression of sheepishness from the three male voices. _:-Harry, listen. You're not going insane. When you brought us back with the Resurrection Stone, we couldn't just leave you. We clung on. Our bodies went, but we sort hung round as much as we could. When you were talking to Albus at the Inbetween-Station, we snuck in and hung onto your mind so you dragged us back with you.-:_

Harry wondered if this would have sounded more implausible if he hadn't had Voldemort living in his head for sixteen years.

_:-I'm your mother, Harry. I'm Lily. Wave your wand at your pillow – two flicks and a swish – and say _mutatio violetta._-:_

"What?" Harry was caught even more off-guard by this rapid change of subject.

_:-Just do it, Pronglet,-: _said the deep, unfamiliar male voice that Harry assumed was supposed to be his father.

Sighing, Harry did as he was told. Flick, flick, swish. "_Mutatio violetta_!" He gaped when his pillow gave a twitch, then transformed into a bunch of purple flowers. "That was my pillow!"

_:-But you didn't know the spell,-: _Lily pointed out. _:-You aren't imagining us, because you didn't know the spell. If you were making us up, we would only know the magic that you do.-:_

That made a disturbing amount of sense. "You mean you're really here?" Harry hardly dared to believe it. Something inside him quivered and cracked, sending warmth spreading through his chest. "You're really my Mum and Dad and Remus and Sirius?" His voice was on the edge of a sob.

_:-We're really here, Harry.-:_

Suddenly he was enveloped – that was the only word he could find for it – in a mental hug in which, for the first time, he allowed himself to _feel _the presence of the precious people in his mind. Yes – there it was; the sense of mischievousness, broken youth, and shadowed hollows contrasting with brilliant light that was Sirius. And there was the gentle warmth and sweetness, mixed with a twinge of coiled, feral wildness that was Remus. A playful, mature boyishness with a hint of arrogance and good humour had to be his father, and the tender, girlish bossiness overlaid with a maternal protectiveness that was his mother. If he hadn't believed it before, now – with this tangible evidence – he couldn't deny what his heart was telling him.

To his acute embarrassment, a tear escaped from the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek. "I'm sorry you're dead," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I was responsible."

_:-Don't say that Harry.-: _Remus's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. _:-The only person that was responsible was Voldemort.-:_

Harry frowned, looking down at his hands. He could sense he wouldn't win that argument, but they couldn't change what he knew. "You've been here since the final battle?" he asked quietly. "That was over a year ago. Why didn't you let me know sooner?"

_:-We didn't know how,-: _James told him. Harry got the impression James tried to do the mental equivalent of ruffling his son's hair, which only succeeded in scrambling Harry's thoughts and making him feel a bit dizzy. _:-We couldn't get you to hear us. We couldn't access any of your thought processes. We could see through your eyes and hear with your ears, but we couldn't communicate. I don't know why you can suddenly hear us now. Perhaps it's because your subconsciousness is used to us now, or maybe it's because we're near the place where you dropped the stone.-:_

"You've been in my head all this time?" Harry had a sudden vision of all the things he'd done in that time. Getting raging drunk at the muggle pub down the road from Grimmauld Place, and staggering back to accidentally pee in the hall coat closet. _Wanking _in the shower and his bed. Crying when he thought no one could hear him. Screaming abuse at Walburga Black's portrait until Kreacher informed him that only house elf magic could break the non-removable charm on the portrait, and proceeded to do just that while Harry looked on with incredulous disbelief.

Harry couldn't remember ever feeling this mortified.

_:-We didn't look at anything private, Harry,-: _Remus's voice said soothingly. _:-Lily and I made sure all of us were blocking off the connection to your eyes and ears whenever it felt like we were encroaching too much on your privacy. Though if you want us to keep doing that, I would recommend working on your occlumency so you don't end up projecting a stream of images on us like you did just then. We seem to be much more in contact with your mind now.-:_

Sirius's voice snickered in the back of Harry's head. _:-Though I thought it was awesome to see you peeing on my mother's best fur coat. I'm so glad her portrait was able to see it.-:_

Harry dropped his head into his hands, his face burning.

_:-Harry?-: _Lily's voice was hesitant. _:-I think it would be best if you didn't tell anybody about us right now. We weren't really thinking sensibly when we hung on to you, but we never intended to gate-crash your mind like this. We've been trying to think of a way we can exist outside your mind – either to move on as we were meant to when we died, or to find some way of restoring ourselves to bodies.-:_

"Don't move on!" Harry said, alarm rising in his chest. "Please – I'll find some way of restoring your bodies or something. But don't go."

_:-Just don't use the same potion that Wormtail used to bring back old Voldie-: _Sirius said with a mental shudder. _:-I could not bear to look _that _unattractive. Moony wouldn't look twice at me, and I'd never get shagged.-:_

Harry choked. "Moony _what?_" _Oh Merlin, if I am making this all up, I really do NOT want to know why my unconscious mind thought that was a good idea._

_:-You never told him about you guys?-: _James demanded, and Harry _felt_ the mental cuff that Sirius received on his non-existent head.

_:-The time was never right!-: _Sirius said. _:-But I reckon if we're living in his head now, he was going to figure it out sooner or later. It's better that we tell him now.-:_

"Remus is married to Tonks!" Harry said, his voice cracking. "I may be going mad, but I distinctly remember that he's married to Tonks. And what about Teddy? He had Teddy!" He felt his world beginning to tilt off its axis at the idea of his Godfather and ex-Professor going at it together.

_:-Ergh! We could do without the mental images, please.-: _James's voice said, making gagging noises.

_:-Mmm…looks about right, though, eh, Moony?-: _Sirius sounded very smug. _:-Makes me wish we had bodies again. And please don't mention the T-word in my presence again, Harry. People get hurt when I hear the T-word.-:_

_:-I told you, Sirius, I was lonely.-: _Remus's voice sounded tired and a little hurt, like this was an old argument often rehashed. _:-And she was so persistent and desperate. She took care of me, and she didn't care about what I am and how old I was. I thought you would have wanted me to move on with my life.-:_

_:-Not quite so quickly,-: _Sirius said sulkily.

_:-We were in a war and I had no one else to talk to. I loved her, not in the same way that I loved you, but I _did _love her. She knew about you and me, too, and it caused a lot of friction between us.-:_

Harry, in spite of the fact he was still rather reeling with shock over the whole revelation, felt moved to add; "He's right, you know. I had to yell at him to go back to her. He got all scared when Teddy came along."

_:-Harry…you're okay with this, aren't you?-: _Remus asked hesitantly.

Harry thought about Remus sleeping on the train looking scruffy and gaunt and alone, and yet still having the patience and kindness to teach and care for the students at Hogwarts. He thought about Sirius, alone for twelve years in Azkaban, reliving his worst nightmares, and suffering with the knowledge that Remus thought he was guilty of James's and Lily's deaths. He thought of their violent, bitter-sweet reunion in the Shrieking Shack in his third year. The thought that they understood one-another and could support one-another seemed to fit right in his head, even though he had not really thought much about homosexuality at all until this moment. He wasn't even sure how it was viewed in the wizarding world. "No, I don't mind," Harry said. Then a little worriedly: "You do love Teddy, though, don't you Professor?"

_:-Of course I do!-: _Remus sounded bewildered that he had even asked. _:-And I loved Tonks as well, as much as I could with what was left of my heart.-:_

Sirius coughed something that sounded suspiciously like, _:-Classic rebound!-:_

"Good, well…just don't go snogging in the back of my head or anything."

_:-We don't have lips,-: _Sirius pointed out sounding amused. _:-And even if we did, I bet you would be just as horrified by your parents making out in the back seat here as well.-:_

Harry made a show of wrinkling his nose, but a small part of his mind – a part that wasn't taken up with uninvited members of the family he'd never really had a chance to get to know – was doing a wild and delighted jig at the idea that _this _was _real_. He had a chance to get to know his parents. He had Sirius back, and Remus as well. He didn't need a second-hand family because he had his own right here in his head. The bigger part of his brain that was struggling to think rationally nudged the dancing part and pointed out that that last thought hadn't sounded entirely sane.

_:-Oh Merlin, my son is a nutter,-: _James's voice said, sounding half-amused, and half-genuinely worried. _:-Are people's brains supposed to look like this?-: _There was a feeling of someone nudging around in his mind, and he began receiving small flashes of thoughts and memories without consciously thinking of them. It reminded him a bit of Legilimency.

_:-James!-: _Lily sounded stern. _:-Stop rummaging round in poor Harry's brain! That's bad manners. If you went to someone's house, would you go poking round in their underwear draw without their consent?-:_

_:-Probably-: _James and Sirius answered together.

"I take offence to the fact that my own mother views my brain as an underwear draw," Harry commented.

_:-Listen Harry,-: _Remus said suddenly. _:-I agree with Lily. I really don't think you should tell anyone about this. I get the feeling that we're really not supposed to be here, and if you don't want to exorcise us to force us to move on, then I think you're going to have to do some not-entirely-legal magic to get us some kind of bodies back. The fewer people that know about it, the better.-:_

"Like anyone would believe me anyway," Harry said, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling of the hospital wing. "They would think I was insane. They've thought that before, you know. There were articles and everything about the delusional, attention-seeking Boy Who Lived."

"Harry? Who are you talking to?" Harry jumped and sat up quickly, turning to the door where Hermione and Madame Pomfrey were watching him with curious, worried expressions.

"Just…myself. Thinking out loud, you know." Harry reflected glumly on the fact that he'd just scored T for troll in Believable Excuses 101.

"Why would think you were insane, Harry?" Hermione asked, coming over to stand by his bed as Madame Pomfrey fussed around him, doing medical scans with her wand.

_:-Tell her you thought everyone would after seeing you faint in the Great Hall,-: _James suggested. Harry, trying not to show any reaction to the voice in his head, obediently repeated his father's words.

"Oh that." Hermione waved her hand reassuringly and ruffled his hair. "We told everyone you've come down with a mild case of wizard flu, don't worry." She frowned at him. "What really happened to you?"

_:-Teaching,-: _Lily supplied. _:-You were worried about teaching, and it all suddenly became real when you saw them all sitting at the tables.-:_

As Harry related this to the two women hovering over him, he wondered why on-the-spot inspiration in the excuses department was obviously not genetic.

_:-It's practice,-: _Sirius said. _:-When you spend as many years as we did explaining away the fact that all the Slytherins were wearing mini-skirts and fishnets, or why Slughorn was stuck to the ceiling of the charms classroom wearing Snivellus's underwear on his head, you get good at thinking on the spot.-:_

Harry frowned when he thought of how they had treated Snape. The guilt on behalf of his father and godfather had only grown after the final battle and the revelation of Snape's secret love for his mother. "That wasn't right, you know," he told them.

"What wasn't?" Hermione asked.

Harry groaned. "Nothing." He crooked his arm over his eyes as he felt a headache coming on. "Can I just get some sleep?"

He peered under his arm and didn't miss the worried glance that Hermione and Madame Pomfrey exchanged.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," the medi-witch said, her voice kind. Oh God, she was treating him like a mental patient already. "If I can just ask before you do – is there any particular reason why one of my pillows has been transfigured into a bunch of violets?"

Harry gave an embarrassed shrug, and closed his eyes, ignoring the mumbled apologies in the back of his head.


	3. Adolescent Gremlins

**Disclaimer: We all know JK Rowling owns it all. **

**I have found a beta, now, so all the new chapters will be better than these last ones hopefully. :D Thanks to RL4SBnotNT who, you will all be grateful to know, will be saving you from the tragedy of my typo-habit and random grammer slip-ups...**

**Thank you all for reading!**

**Moonsign.**

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**Adolescent Gremlins**

It wasn't easy adjusting to having four extra people living in your head. Especially when two of them were your parents, and the other two were your ex-werewolf-professor and your gay godfather. Harry reckoned it was like having Multiple Personality Disorder, except no part of him – not even his unconscious mind – was in control. And it didn't help that the multiple personalities seemed to have multiple personalities of their own that only got stronger the more he interacted with them. He was sure he heard growling in the back of his head on Sunday at dinner time when Professor Sprout mentioned Snape, and didn't know if Sirius, Padfoot, Remus or Moony were responsible, though strongly suspected one of the former two.

The only thing that comforted him was that he discovered that he could have silent conversations with his family by directing his thoughts in their direction, though it took a few tries before they stopped complaining that his voice sounded like a fog horn. Unfortunately, he still had a tendency to forget himself and answer out loud, and he knew many of the staff were a little worried about his state of mind.

Somehow, he muddled through the weekend under Hermione's worried eye. Monday morning arrived, and with it, his first lesson. Barely able to eat breakfast, he stared down from the staff table at the students, wondering why they began to look more and more like the gremlins in Dudley's favourite childhood film, than well-behaved young men and women the closer it got to the first period.

_:-You'll do fine,-: _Remus assured him. _:-I felt exactly the same before my first day of teaching. Who do you have first lesson? -:_

Harry sighed and picked at the piece of toast on his plate. _:- First year Gryffindor and Slytherin.-:_

_:-Well, that's not too bad.-: _Lily's voice was comforting. _:- They don't know what to expect any more that you do. And your name will work in your favour. No one's going to mess with the guy who defeated the greatest dark wizard of the century.-:_

_:-But I didn't!-: _Harry said, feeling his agitation growing. _:-I just cast the disarming spell on him. It wasn't even a hex or a curse! It may have worked against Voldemort, but I'm positive it won't work against a class of twenty demon adolescents.-:_

James snorted in the back of his head, and he felt his father's spiritual presence nudge Lily's in the back of his head. _:-He gets that flair for melodrama from you-:_

_:-This coming from the man who sent me a dozen bouquets of a dozen red roses delivered by a dozen singing cherubs for Valentines day that one time,-: _she answered dryly.

_:-This is why I have trouble thinking of you two as my parents,-: _Harry told them. _:-You act like a couple of adolescents yourselves.-:_

_:-Technically we're only a few years older than you,-: _James pointed out.

_:-And if that is not disturbing, I don't know what is,-: _said Sirius.

_:-It's time for class,-: _Remus interrupted, his voice firm, but reassuring. _:-Come on, Harry. You'll do fine.-:_

_:-Can't I go and face another dark lord instead,-: _Harry begged, as he reluctantly got to his feet.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, catching his arm before he stepped off the raised platform on which the staff table stood. "You've been really quiet and distracted all breakfast."

"Just worried about first class," he assured her. "How are you feeling?"

"A little worried, a little excited and a lot like I'm about to vomit," she admitted. She smiled at him. "It can't be worse than teaching the DA, though, can it?" She didn't look very convinced by her own words.

"Who have you got first?" Harry asked.

"Slytherin and Hufflepuff fifth years." She really did look rather green.

"Unlucky." Harry gave her a one-armed hug round her shoulders. "You'll do fine, though, Hermione. You're a brilliant teacher. If it wasn't for you, Ron and I would never have passed any owls."

_:-I like her,-: _Lily said, as Harry parted with Hermione in the corridor and made his way towards the DADA classroom. _:-Why don't you go out with her?-:_

_:-She's with Ron-: _Harry said distractedly. _:-And she's my friend. I don't fancy her.-:_

He entered his classroom and walked gingerly up to the teachers desk. He dropped the briefcase Ron had given him for his birthday on it and brushed his hair out of his eyes with a shaky hand. _:-I feel like a fraud.-:_

_:-All teachers feel like frauds,-: _Remus told him. _:-It's all about acting like you're omniscient and know exactly what you're talking about.-:_

_:-I'll drive,-: _Sirius offered.

"What?" Harry asked, speaking out loud in his surprise.

_:-I'll drive the body. I bet I'd be an amazing teacher. See if you can stand back and I'll take over.-:_

_:-No!-: _Harry said indignantly. _:-First of all it's MY body, not THE body, and secondly, there is NO way I am letting you have control of it. Especially with a class of little first year Slytherins who are at your mercy.-:_

_:-I'll be good!-: _Sirius whined. _:-It's boring being in here and not being able to do anything.-:_

_:-Sirius, there is no way I am letting you possess the body of my son,-: _Lily said, her voice firm. _:-I saw what you did with your own, for one thing.-:_

_:-Padfoot, behave yourself!-: _Remus scolded. _:-I'm not going to let you loose on poor Harry's body.-:_

_:-Jealous, Moony?-: _Sirius asked wickedly.

_:-This all sounds so wrong!-: _James complained. _:-I'm so glad no one else can hear this conversation. Lily and I would be put up for child abuse.-:_

"Sir?" Harry jumped violently and choked on his own saliva. He turned to see two small faces staring up at him with an odd mixture of awe, worry and bemusement. He rapidly tried to get himself under control again and managed a rather sickly smile.

"What can I do for you boys?" he asked.

"Er…" The tallest of the pair exchanged a glance with his friend. "We're here for the lesson, Professor Potter."

Harry glanced past the two boys and saw a number of faces peering round the door at him. "Right, right. Course you are. Come in, you lot! Take a seat."

_:-You can't refer to your students as 'you lot',-: _Remus said, sounding scandalised.

_:-I could do without the backseat driving as well, thank you.-:_

_:-Just trying to give you good advice.-:_

Harry busied himself as the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years filed in and took their seats, starting from the back. By the time they were all inside, the front two rows were completely empty, and two little girls were actually sharing a single seat in the back row.

"What are you all doing back there?" Harry asked, wondering for a brief, panicked second if he had forgotten to shower that morning and the teachers at the head table had been too polite to tell him that he smelled. "Come on. Shift forward and fill up these front rows."

_:-Bless 'em,-: _James said, as the children reluctantly shuffled forward. _:-They're scared of the big, bad Dark-Lord-Defeater.-:_

_:-I have enough stupid titles, Dad, and I'd be grateful if you didn't start thinking up more for me."_

_:-How about He Who Must Not Be Shamed… By A Group Of Adolescent Gremlins?-: _Sirius suggested.

_:-The Boy Who Sieved…His Own Brains Out His Nostrils To make Room In His Head For His Family,-: _James said, nudging Harry's mind playfully.

_:-You Know Who…Really Has A Thing For the Disarming Spell,-: _Was Remus's contribution.

_:-SHUT UP!-: _Lily and Harry chorused and the older men fell silent aside from quiet snickering in the back of his head.

Harry surveyed his first class and felt highly unnerved when he saw the many up-turned faces looking expectantly at him. The two little boys from earlier were in the front row. Now that Harry looked at them properly, he saw that one wore a Slytherin badge and the other, a Gryffindor one.

_:-Now there's a friendship that'll be doomed before it starts,-: _Remus commented sadly. _:-After the war, there's been even more anti-Slytherin feeling than there used to be.-:_

_:-Poor little lads,-: _Lily sighed.

Harry looked at the 'poor little lads' in question. The taller one was the Gryffindor. He was one of those people who seemed to have been made up with leftover parts that don't quite go together. Although his eyes were wide and warm brown, they didn't quite match up with his straight, angular nose – which in turn, didn't quite fit with his crooked mouth that tilted up on the right side to give him a permanently mischievous air. His hair seemed torn between being shaggy and pale brown, and wavy and golden, and whoever had designed his body, had obviously run out of a full skeleton and had decided to substitute extra elbows and knees so the boy's long, thin frame gave the impression of being a puppet who could fold up like a collapsing deck chair at any moment.

The little Slytherin beside him was a complete contrast. He had to be the tiniest child in the year, and when Harry glanced at him, the first thing he thought was 'pointy'. He reminded Harry of what Malfoy had looked like when he was younger, but this child was even pointier than that. His chin was sharp and elfish, his nose tilted and triangular. His cheekbones were high and prominent – a feature common in many of the older pure-blood families. While the Gryffindor seemed to be tripping over extra elbows and flailing limbs, this child was so slight he had nothing to spare. His hair was bright strawberry blonde – parted neatly in the middle, but the tight curls meant that it swept up on either side of his head, giving the impression of wicked little faun's horns. He wouldn't have looked out of place holding a set of panpipes. This slightly disturbing air was only increased by the fact that his eyes were so dark they looked almost black; the iris's larger than normal and standing out in his pale little face.

The two boys shifted uncertainly under Harry's stare and Harry blinked and looked away, trying to gather the confidence he used to teach the DA.

"Good morning everyone."

He jumped out of his skin when they all chanted back, "Good morning Professor Potter."

"Er…Right. Good Stuff. Anyway. As you know, this is your first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Over the course of the next seven years you will be learning to defend yourself against curses and hexes, learn how to identify and handle dark creatures, and how to tackle dark magic."

A small Slytherin girl with pigtails put up her hand.

"Er - yes, Miss…?"

"Evenberg, Sir. Are you gonna teach us curses?" she asked. "And hexes?"

Harry stared at her. "What part of _Defence Against_ the dark arts did you not understand?" He sighed. "Look, you don't start learning offensive spells until fifth year. Defensive spells are much more important when you are in a situation where it's just important that you survive. Do you all understand that?"

"Oh, come on!" said a scruffy little Gryffindor boy who showed all the signs of being the up-and-coming class clown. "You can't tell us you beat You-Know-Who without throwing curses at him."

Harry grimaced. This is what the media did. Twisted things round so it sounded like he and Voldemort had an epic duel that he won through superior knowledge of curses and brute force. "First of all, call him 'Voldemort', not You-Know-Who," Harry said. "He was not a god. He was as mortal as any of us. This should be obvious by now. Or better yet, call him Tom Riddle, as that was the name he was born with."

The children gaped at him, and mutters like a brief breeze rose and fell in the room.

"Secondly, Voldemort killed himself. He was arrogant and overconfident. He used a wand that recognised my as its true wielder and cast the killing curse. At the same time, I cast _Expelliarmus_. His own spell rebounded because the wand would not damage its master and killed him. Of course, it was a little more complicated than that, but the truth is that, at the end, in the final battle, the only spell I cast was _Expelliarmus. _Can anyone here tell me what that spell does?"

There was a long silence, then the all-elbows-and-knees little Gryffindor boy slowly raised his hand.

Harry nodded to him. "You are?"

"Alex Goldrod, Professor. I think that _Expelliarmus _is the disarming spell."

"Excellent!" Harry grinned. "Five points to Gryffindor. Yes, Mr. Goldrod is correct. The spell I used to defeat Voldemort – stop twitching, he's gone – was the disarming spell. A defensive spell that saved my life, not only then, but at another time in the past when I faced him. _Never _underestimate the potential of defensive spells."

The children stared at him with amazed and fascinated expressions, and Harry suddenly felt his nervousness flow away from him. This wasn't so hard. He could do this!

He leant back against his desk and crossed his arms, looking down at the eager expressions. "So," he said. "Who would like to learn the spell I used to defeat Voldemort?"

Twenty-three hands shot into the air.

Harry smiled.


	4. Confessions and the Resurrection Stone

Confessions and the Resurrection Stone

**Disclaimer – The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and those film dudes**** who made occasionally dubiously successful attempts at recreating it**.

**Hi! Sorry for the long wait for an update. Hope this chapter makes up for it. Review, pretty please. You know you want to…:D**

**Moonsign **

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**Confessions and the Resurrection Stone**

"This is completely pointless," Harry muttered, kicking at the ground and sending up a spray of fallen, golden-brown oak leaves. The air in the forbidden forest was sharp with the first chill of Autumn, and the bracken that grew thickly on the forest floor was becoming gilded with copper round the edges as it sensed the coming winter. "It's cold and I don't have a jumper," he added, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and wishing he was wearing his long black teaching robes, even though it was the weekend.

_:-Well,-: _Sirius said in a sulky voice, ­_:- If you could actually remember where you dropped it, we wouldn't be having this problem. -:_

"Me!" Harry huffed indignantly and kicked an offending tree trunk. A long root emerged from the ground and attempted to kick back, though Harry managed to leap out of the way in time. "You lot were there as well! Why am I supposed to be the one who remembers where I dropped it? I was in a life and death situation there. I didn't have time to stop and draw a treasure map. Besides," he inched around a creepy-looking rock and poked hopefully at a patch of leaf-covered ground with a long stick he had appropriated for the purpose, "I was _trying _to lose it. I was told that if I kept it I would waste away yearning for all you lot and you'd all suffer because you didn't belong here. If I'd known you would be this much trouble when I got you, it wouldn't have been a problem."

_:-Aren't you _glad_ to have us back?-: _James whined. It was at times like this that Harry remembered that his father was only a couple of years older than him, and more than a few behind in maturity, at least according to Lily.

Harry sighed. "You know I am really. I just hoped I'd never have to come back to this place. I _died_ here, you know. It doesn't have good memories." He glanced up at the remnants of old webs hanging in the trees. Aragog's clan of spiders had never returned to their clearing after the Death Eaters had used it. "Plus, Ron and I almost got eaten by giant spiders here in my second year, and had to be saved by a sapient Ford Anglia."

_:-WHAT?-: _James and Lily yelled in his head, causing Harry to cringe and clutch his temples. _:-Giant spiders!?-:_

_:-What's a Ford Anglia?-: _Sirius added.

"Flying car," Harry said. "Well," he amended, "they don't usually fly, but this one did. Does _anyone _even have a _vague _memory of where I dropped the stone?" He flopped down onto a less creepy-looking rock and huffed warm air into his hands.

_:-We were distracted as well, Harry,-: _Remus told him. _:-I was still adjusting to being dead.-:_

_:-What giant spiders?-: _Lily demanded.

"I'll tell you later. Listen, this really isn't getting us anywhere. I thought I could come here and accio the stone and everything would be fine. Now you tell me it's an ancient magical artefact that is resistant to summoning charms. Why did no one think to mention this before?"

_:-You told us you knew where it was,-: _Sirius reminded him.

"Well, I _thought _I did. It all looks different now. It's light and there are no handy Dark Lords or Death Eaters hanging round so I can re-orientate myself."

Lily sighed in the back of his mind. _:-I guess we'll just have to head back then until we can think of another way to retrieve the stone. Perhaps it's only resistant to 'accio'. If we can find a stronger summoning charm it might work. We'll need to do research."_

Harry groaned. "I hate research. That's Hermione's forte. I never even know where to start looking.

_:-That's the beauty of having our Moony,-: _Sirius said fondly. _:-He's a great researcher. If it wasn't for him, we would never have pulled off half the amazing pranks we did.-:_

Harry had the distinct impression of the two of them coming together for a cuddle in his head and banged his forehead roughly with his fist. "Hey! Stop it! You promised no snogging in the back seat."

_:-Did we?-: _Remus asked vaguely, his voice distracted. _:-I don't remember that.-:_

_:-I'm sure we didn't promise anything of the sort,-: _Sirius assured him.

_:-M__aybe it's time we told her,-: _Lily added.

There was a brief silence as the others tried to catch up with her thought processes. "You what?" Harry asked eventually.

_:-Hermione. Maybe we should tell her. She's resourceful, clever, good at research…Plus it will be useful to have another physical body giving us a hand. Oh – and I'm bored of being the only female around to keep you lot in line.-:_

"That's all very well," Harry said, "But what if she doesn't believe me. What if she thinks I'm a nut case and sends me to St. Mungo's to live next door to Lockhart? You never met him. You wouldn't know the torture."

_:-Foppish sort of bloke?-: _James asked_ :-Blonde hair? Stupid smile? Ego the size of Russia?-:_

"Er…yeah."

_:-Couple of years below us in school. Right idiot, he was. We once turned his hair into a pink afro and tattooed 'shake hands with me if you think I'm an arrogant git' on his forehead. He couldn't figure out why he had suddenly become so popular until he looked in the mirror. Sadly that didn't take too long, vain sod.-: _ _­_

_:-Still, I think you've been friends with Hermione long enough that she'll at least give you a chance to prove you're not insane,-: _Remus pointed out. ­_:-And knowing how close you lot are, you'll have to tell Ron as well.-: _

Harry stood up and slowly began to make his way back to the castle. "I guess you're right. I think she's becoming suspicious of me anyway."

_:-That's because you're always talking to us out loud. You should get used to speaking in your head all the time,-: _Lily scolded. _:-You really will get sent to hospital if you get caught one more time. When those two little first years caught you muttering to yourself yesterday, you were really walking on thin ice."_

"They wouldn't have said anything," Harry protested. "They like me. I'm the only one that really encourages their friendship. The rest of the teachers really think friends should stay in their Houses – even if they pretend they don't."

Alex Goldrod and Daniel Macresco, the two first years that Harry had noticed on his first day, had had a hard time of it in their first week of school. The Gryffindor and Slytherin stubbornly remained friends, in spite of the fact that this effectively ostracised them from both Houses. Harry didn't know how or why they were so determined to stick by one-another, but he admired their determination. For some reason, he felt an instinctive, almost brotherly desire to protect the two children and their friendship.

_:-Macresco should have asked to be put into Gryffindor,-: _Sirius said. _:-It worked for me-: _

_:-You're a Gryffindor through and through,-: _Harry pointed out, switching to mind-speech as he neared the school. _:-Daniel belongs in Slytherin. His personality wouldn't fit in Gryffindor nearly as well. I've only known the kid a week, and even I can see that. Not everyone who is in Slytherin is evil, Sirius.-:_

There was an aura of disbelief surrounding the presence of Sirius in Harry's head.

_:-Really!-: _Harry insisted. _:-The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, you know.-: _

There was a long silence, before James's shocked voice managed to choke out, _:-You're JOKING.-:_

_:-Nope,­-: _Harry wondered if they could feel how worried and anxious he felt at the thought of them not accepting this side of him. _:-I had to ask it to put me somewhere else. I'd just met Malfoy, you see. Didn't want to be in the same House as him.-:_

Harry arrived at the door to his quarters and whispered the password as his heart hammered in anticipation of their answer. It was Lily, unsurprisingly, who spoke first.

_:-You're right, of course, Harry. James and Sirius were never free long enough to let go of their prejudices. Many a good person has come out of Slytherin. And many a bad person has come from other Houses. Think of Severus, for example. A braver man, one could never meet.-: _

_:-Bugger Snivellus-: _Sirius said. _:-But Lily is right, Harry. I wouldn't care what House you were in, you'll always be my godson.-:_

Harry felt himself relax, and he dropped into a shabby armchair in front of his fire to warm his chilly hands. It was Sirius he had been most worried about. James was his father and would probably love him through everything, and he knew Remus didn't hold the same grudges as the other two, but Sirius had always hated Slytherins with a passion. "Thanks," he whispered.

_:-So,-:_ James said cheerfully, and Harry had the mental impression of him rubbing non-existent hands together. _:-Tomorrow we tell the bookworm.-: _

_:-HEY!-: _Harry, Lily and Remus chorused.

_:-Hermione,-: _James corrected himself, not really sounding that apologetic. _:-Tomorrow we tell Hermione. And Ron. Try and get him to floo to the Three Broomsticks and we'll meet him there. Now we just have to figure out a way to make them believe us.-:_

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"Please tell me it's not another Dark Lord," Ron said, setting down three butterbeers on their table at The Three Broomsticks before sliding into the seat beside Hermione. Harry had deliberately picked a table that was set into a little alcove near the bar, so they would have a little privacy for their conversation.

Harry scowled at him. "That's not the only important thing I think about, you know. I do have other talents aside from defeating Dark Lords, you know."

"It's just that you sounded so worried and serious. I couldn't think what else could be wrong. I knew no one had died, because nearly everyone you have left belongs to my family, and I would have heard already." Ron winced as he realised quite how insensitive his comment had sounded. "Sorry, mate. It's like verbal vomiting. Once I start, I can't seem to stop. I need to install a filter system between my brain and my mouth."

Harry shrugged. "It's true. You guys _are_ the only people I have left alive. It's not a Dark Lord, or anyone dying. The complete opposite in fact."

Hermione's forehead wrinkled. "You've got some poor girl pregnant?" she hazarded. "I didn't even know you knew some poor girl to get pregnant."

James and Sirius sniggered in his head and Remus murmured, _:-She's right, you know. You really do need to get out a bit more. Your closest family – who're not dead and living in your head - is a psychotic house elf.-:_

_:-Kreacher's not so psychotic anymore,-: _Harry protested. _:-And please be quiet, I can't carry out two conversations at once-:_

Harry took a fortifying gulp of butterbeer and launched straight in. "I didn't get anyone pregnant. Of course I didn't. You see me all the time, Hermione. When would I have had time to get a secret girlfriend?"

"You've been sneaking off a lot lately, actually," she said. "I saw you wandering into the Forbidden Forest yesterday muttering to yourself. I almost followed to check you hadn't completely lost it."

"I wasn't talking to myself," Harry said. He gripped the edge of the table hard and took a deep breath. "I was talking to my family."

Ron and Hermione stared at him blankly.

"They're – well, okay, they're not really completely alive – but they sort of are. Their spirits, anyway. In my head."

"Er…" said Ron. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Hermione that was not lost on Harry, who sensed impending imprisonment looming with Lockhart as a roommate and hastened to explain.

"I know I sound crazy, and I thought I was at first but they're really here!"

Hermione reached out to touch his had. "Harry, I think that –"

"No! _Listen _to me. I'm not lying or crazy. You know when I had the stone, and I saw them before I died? And then I told you about the in-between place at the station between life and death with Dumbledore? Well, they sneaked off there, and hung on, and now they're living in my head."

"Harry, I wish we could believe you, but you have to know how crazy this sounds," Hermione said, biting her lip and exchanging another look with Ron.

"Ask me something," Harry said. "Anything that you and Remus or Sirius would know, but that I wouldn't."

"What would we know about them that you wouldn't?" Ron asked.

"I don't _know_," Harry said, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "Think of something!"

Harry had the sense of someone tapping on the inside of his skull to get his attention. "What?" he snapped.

"What, what?" Ron asked.

"Not you. Hang on." Harry turned his attention inwards. _:-What? This had better be important.-:_

_:-It is,-: _Sirius hastened to assure him. _:-Tell Hermione 'remember that time she saw us after the moon in Remus's room at Grimmauld place'.-:_

Harry frowned. "Sirius says to tell Hermione 'remember that time after the moon when she saw them in Remus's room at Grimmauld place'." His eyes widened suddenly. "Seen you doing _what_ in Remus's room?" he demanded.

He looked up to catch sight of Ron looking worried and unconvinced, and Hermione looking very pale.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Ask him what happened," Hermione whispered.

"He said it was after the full moon," Harry repeated after Sirius. "That summer before fifth year. He was taking care of Remus after his transformation and you walked past. The door was half open and you looked in and saw them – " Harry rolled his eyes, "-Snogging. No, Sirius says not snogging. He just leaned down and kissed Remus…"

"_What?_" Ron yelped.

"…_Kissed Remus_," Harry continued over the top of Ron's spluttering, "on the lips. Lightly, he says, to let him know he was there. And now Remus is interrupting to say he was half unconscious at the time, and should hold no blame for corrupting the minds of young schoolgirls. And then Sirius looked up and spotted you and tried to explain it away, and you said – "

"… 'It's okay, I won't say anything to Harry until you're ready,' " Hermione whispered. "And I didn't. I really didn't. And I know Sirius and Remus didn't either. Especially after Sirius died and Remus married Tonks. There was no point after that, and Remus and I thought it would be easier not to say anything. In case Harry didn't like it. So his memory of Sirius was untainted."

There was a long silence around the table, and butterbeers sat forgotten as Hermione stopped speaking with tears in her eyes, and Ron and Harry gaped at her.

"You _knew _they were together?" Harry demanded. "And you didn't tell us?"

"It was their secret to tell," Hermione said. "Would you have told if you had seen them and they asked you not to?"

Harry didn't answer because she had a point.

"I can't believe this," Ron said. "Does this mean Harry isn't insane and he really does have Sirius and Lupin living in his head? And they're _together? _As in _together _together?"

"Yeah. And my Mum and Dad," Harry said. "Look, if you still don't believe me, ask me to do a spell. One I don't know, but that you think one of them might have."

"Alright," Hermione said. "Let me think a minute." She paused, drumming her fingers on Ron's forearm. "…Okay. It's a housekeeping charm that I _know _neither you and Ron know. It dusts and polishes wooden furniture with soft beeswax all in one charm. I'm sure one of them would know it."

_:-I do,-: _James volunteered unexpectedly.

"Dad does," Harry said.

"James Potter?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "From what I've heard he doesn't seem the type."

"He says he used to use it on his broom."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I should have guessed. Like father, like son. Go on then, Harry." She pointed to a dusty, carved wooden panel that was set into the wall beside their table that depicted a scene of cheerful-looking dancing tree-nymphs.

Harry closed his eyes and listened to James's instructions, them opened them and swished his wand smoothly, muttering, _"__Tergeo__ Excolos!"_

"Well," Hermione said after a while, "it was the right charm and movement. But you were a bit over-enthusiastic."

Harry tilted his head to the side, but it didn't look any better from this angle. His over-zealous dusting had lopped the heads off a couple of the dancing nymphs and all the gaps where the wood was carved were full of sticky beeswax.

"Dad says I should have swished less and pronounced '_excolos_' more clearly."

"He's right." Hermione looked away from the panel, and at Harry, her expression rather dazed. "They're really there, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "They are. And I want to find a way to get them bodies again. But not like Voldemort's, because Sirius said he would rather be dead than look that ugly, and Lily says she would look dreadful without a nose. I think it's to do with the Resurrection Stone. That's what brought them back in the first place. But I went to look for it yesterday where I dropped it, and couldn't find it. I tried accio, but apparently the stone is a powerful magical artefact that's resistant to the charm."

"Merlin's beard," Ron breathed. "You can really talk to Sirius and Lupin right now? And your Mum and Dad?"

"Oh yes. The problem is getting them to shut up for half a minute actually."

"All of them," Hermione said, leaping to voice the conclusion of her thought processes, without bothering to inform them of the route she took to get there, in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Lily. Harry had the distinct feeling the two of them would get on frighteningly well.

"All of them what?" Ron asked, draining his forgotten butterbeer, and then peering at the label as though it would help him catch up with current events.

"All of the Deathly Hallows. You remember what Xenophilius Lovegood's Dad told us once. When all the Deathly Hallows are united together, the possessor will be master of Death. Conqueror of Death. That's how you'll get them back, I think.

Harry and Ron stared at her in awe.

_:-I knew it would be a good idea to tell her,-: _Lily said smugly.

"So," Ron said cheerfully, "A little bit of forest-floor-sweeping, grave robbing and trunk searching, and we can be the masters of Death. Cool."

"I reckon it'll be more complicated that than," Harry said. "Things usually are."


	5. Conversing with Fire

Conversing with Fire

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me.**

**Hope you enjoy this new chapter – longest one so far. Thanks, as ever, to my lovely beta, ****RL4SBnotNT.**

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**Conversing with Fire**

"If I opened the door to a room with a boggart in it, this is exactly what I would see," Ron said, standing in the doorway of one of the private studying rooms just off the Hogwarts library. Harry peered round his tall friend and groaned when he caught a glimpse inside. There was a large studying table inside with enough room for six people round it. The surface of the table was completely obscured by volume after volume of every kind of book in the library – ranging from children's fairytale books to Dark Arts books from the Restricted Section. Hermione was just visible behind the teetering piles, practically buzzing with anticipation to start researching.

"Right there with you, mate," Harry said. He watched as one of the Restricted Section books sprouted legs and scuttled to the edge of the table, accompanied by gleeful cackling.

"Tell you what, Hermione," Ron said, his voice manically cheerful. "Harry and I'll nip off and rob Dumbledore's grave, retrieve the most dangerous and powerful wand of all time, and then on the way back we'll dig up the Forbidden Forest to look for a stone that can bring back the dead and drive grown men crazy. You can do some research while you wait here for us."

"Inside. Close door. _Sit_. Open book." The voice Hermione used was the one that all women seem to develop over the age of eighteen. It spoke directly to Harry's inner-muddy-kneed eight-year-old who bypassed all higher functions and took control of his muscles. Before he had time to think about it, he was seated meekly next to Ron with a book entitled _Forgotten Rites and Ceremonies of Ancient Pure-Blood Families _in his hand. Sirius and James were sniggering in his head.

_:-I remember when Lily used to use that voice on you two,-: _Remus said. ­_:-You have no right to laugh-:_

_:-I remember using it a fair number of times on you as well, Remus,-: _Lily said dryly. _:-I know perfectly well that you were the brains of the outfit. -:_

"I should be let off research," Harry complained, "on account of involuntary insanity."

"Huh?" Ron said,

"The voices in my head are distracting me," Harry clarified.

"You know, to anyone else who heard that, you would sound two bludgers, a Quaffle and a stadium full of fans short of a full Quidditch match."

"No one is being let off research," Hermione said firmly. "And there is absolutely no point in getting all the Hallows together until we find out what we're supposed to do with them. We're looking for a mention of a ceremony that will work with the Deathly Hallows to return departed souls to earthly bodies. To be honest, I'm not really sure where best to look. Seeing as the Hallows started out as a fairytale founded in truth, it could be anywhere."

_:-You'll need to focus on pureblood literature, I think,-: _Sirius said, and Harry had the impression of him leaning forward in his mind to peer at the books on the table.

"Why?" Harry asked, giving him the mental equivalent of an elbow-in-the-ribs to get him to back off a bit.

"Why what?" Ron peered over at Harry's book.

"Sirius says we should probably focus on pureblood literature," Harry told his friends. "He says…" He hesitated as he listened. "He says that whatever else the Peverells were, they were pureblood, and if a pureblood family has access to powerful magical artefacts, they will keep all knowledge of rites and ceremonies limited to as few people as possible. He says they will have been written down somewhere, but the book probably wouldn't be available to the general public. It stops people being tempted to steal the artefacts or something."

"But Hogwarts has the most extensive library in Britain," Hermione said, looking horrified at the idea that her beloved library might not actually be the source of all knowledge.

_:-The most extensive, yes,-: _Sirius agreed, _:-But it is still a library aimed at students and academics. I think you'll find that their Dark Arts sections are more grey than black, and will be fairly unpopulated. Do you really think they would stock a book with information on how to become a Conqueror of Death in a school library?-:_

Hermione looked incredibly disheartened when Harry repeated this to her. Harry himself felt like they had just gone back three steps instead of progressing at all.

"So what's the point of all this then?" Ron demanded. "Sirius, mate, you could have mentioned this before I started reliving my worst nightmare."

_:-The book won't be here,-:_ James said, _:-But the information about where it is might be. Hogwart's Dark Arts section might be grey, but we can treat this library as a giant index. One of these books is bound to mention where the ceremony is written down, and even which pureblood family had a copy in their possession last. It could be any of them. __They're a__ll interrelated.-: _

"Woohoo," Harry said, after gloomily repeating James words to his friends. "Not only am I beginning to feel like a parrot, but we also get to go on a quest to nick a book on the Dark Arts from a pureblood family, who probably have at least one member who has made a spirited effort to murder me at some point in my life."

"Cheer up, mate," Ron said. "Not all pureblood families are that bad."

"Ron, I highly doubt that a family as lovely as yours would have kept a book on Death Magic lying round on their shelves," Hermione said. "If any of them have a copy, it'll be a dark family like Sirius's."

Harry perked up. "Hey! Maybe at Grimmauld Place…?"

_:-Nope, sorry,-: _Sirius said. _:-I was stuck in that house for a very long time. I can probably recite every book on the shelves of that library. There are some pretty nasty ones in there, but none that will be useful for us.-:_

"Merlin's blue pyjamas!" Harry sank back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Hermione asked. "You didn't used to. And it makes all that flattening and brushing you do in the mornings a completely pointless exercise."

Harry looked at her blankly. "What?"

"Running your hand through your hair and making it stick up like that. You've been doing it for days."

There was silence at the table for a second, and Harry had the impression of everyone in his head turning their attention to James.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, poking Harry. "It's just a weird habit. Who cares? You didn't used to say 'Merlin's blue pyjamas' either."

_:-No, but James did,-: _Remus said quietly.

"You've picked up all sorts of odd habits, now I think about it," Hermione said, looking at Harry searchingly. "You ate cooked cabbage three nights in a row, even though I distinctly remember you plotting death to any living being who considers serving 'ribbons of poisoned rubber' as part of a nutritious meal – "

_:-Lily's favourite food,-: _James interrupted helpfully.

" – and I saw you _wink TWICE _at two of your fangirls when we were in Hogsmeade last weekend. _WINK! _You, who claim that all fangirls should be committed into St. Mungo's and forced to room with Lockhart as – and I quote – 'the vain, featherbrained idiots deserve one another'."

Harry gaped as he felt Sirius preening in his mind muttering, _:-It took a long time to perfect that wink, you know. You're lucky to have inherited it.-:_

"I did not!"

"You did."

_:-This isn't something to joke about,-: _Remus said, his mental voice tight with worry.

_:-So he's picking up some of our characteristics. What's the problem?-: _Sirius asked.

_:-What happens when he starts to pick up some of mine?-:_

There was another potent silence in Harry's head after Remus's words. Harry felt his heart jump a little in his chest. He turned slowly to look at Hermione and said, "Do you know the date of the next full moon?"

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"A weeks time," Hermione said, pointing to the date on the calendar that hung on the wall of her small living room in her quarters. She sent Harry a worried look and he slumped further into the sofa by the fire. "Do you honestly think you might – you know – _change_?"

Harry sucked his cheeks in and stared at the fire. "Remus isn't sure. It probably won't be a full change, and it might not even be a physical one seeing as they're living in my mind. But even if I only get the _mind _of the wolf, I will be very dangerous."

"You could take wolfsbane potion," Ron suggested. "You know – as a preventative."

"It's poisonous to humans. Besides, only potions masters can make it safely. It's really, really complicated."

Ron paced around the room, picking up objects absently and putting them down again without looking at them. "It might not happen, right?"

"Remus says he doesn't see why it wouldn't. It's a very strong side of his personality, and the wolf is _designed _to take over a human mind."

_:-I'm sorry,- _Remus whispered in his head for the hundredth time. _:-I'm so, so sorry Harry. I would rather have done ANYHTING than risk passing my curse onto you. If only I had known, I would have – -:_

_:-Well then I'm glad you DIDN'T,-: _Harry interrupted, making his mental voice as firm as possible. _:-I would rather be a werewolf and have you here, than have you be left behind. You are part of my family, Moony. I'd never want you left behind. You're too important to me.-:_

There was a long, anguished silence in his head, and Remus's presence curled smaller so it was only taking up the tiniest space in Harry's mind. Harry wondered if it was a reaction to his words about family, or whether it was the fact that he had called the man 'Moony' for the first time. Sirius's presence shifted to envelop Remus's curled one, and Harry didn't even consider objecting.

"The Shrieking Shack," said Hermione briskly. "Just to be on the safe side. And I have another idea as well, Harry, though I'm not sure if it'll work."

"We're willing to try anything at the moment."

"Well…" Hermione sat down on the sofa opposite Harry. She glanced up to where Ron was standing by the window twisting a very expensive leather wand-holster in worried fingers. "Ron, put that down and come sit here, please. It took me ages to charm that to ward against damage from a blasting curse, and you're literally screwing up my spell."

Ron jumped and looked down at his hands. "Sorry Hermione." He replaced the holster and sat down beside his girlfriend, taking her hand and squeezing it in apology.

"Yes, well." She quirked a smile at him, then turned back to Harry. "About my idea. Remember that James and Sirius and…you know…Wormtail became Animagi to help Remus control his violent urges during transformations?"

"I don't think we have time to learn how to become Animagi," Ron said. "I mean, _you _might, 'cos you're clever and all, but it'll take a lot longer for me. Certainly more than a week."

_:-It would take anyone more that a week,-: _James said. _:-It's a very long process. The potions alone take months to brew.-:_

"I didn't mean _we _would be able to," Hermione said tartly. "I don't have _that _much of an inflated view of my intellect. I meant that perhaps if James and Sirius could change their minds so they feel like Prongs and Padfoot, it might calm Moony down a bit. If their, ah, _presences _can surround him – and Harry if he's affected – maybe he won't be so violent."

Harry's mouth formed an 'o' of understanding. "Can you do that?" he asked James and Sirius, his heart giving a hopeful flutter.

_:-Dunno, Harry,-: _Sirius said. _:-Never tried. But Padfoot's not gone. I still feel him inside me. Hang on a minute – let's give it a go, Prongs, old boy.-:_

There was a sudden, strong surge of magic that swept through Harry's mind. He felt his vision go fuzzy and swayed in his seat.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione yelled, both making a grab for him.

Slowly, his vision cleared, and his eyes widened as he felt the two, altered shifting presences in his head that were James and Sirius – or rather, Prongs and Padfoot. They felt very different. The sense of quick humour and bright intelligence was slightly dulled in both of them. From James, he was getting a strong feeling of teetering on the edge of calm, like a stag at the edge of a clearing, ready to skitter away at a moment's notice. He could almost smell the woodland, and feel the way the massive head dipped and swayed as it sensed it wasn't alone. From Sirius, there was an explosion of canine energy and joy, leaving Harry himself with a strong desire to run outside and chase pigeons.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, her worried hand squeezing his shoulder.

"They did it," Harry said, still feeling rather dazed. His tongue tripped over the words as his brain struggled to incorporate three mostly-human minds and two animal ones.

"It worked?" Ron asked. His voice was heavy with relief.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "Change back, please, guys. It's hard to think with you two romping around up there. And _don't _think I can't sense that, Padfoot!"

"What?" Hermione asked, sounding curious.

"Ergh! He's doing the mental equivalent of sniffing Remus's bum."

"You know, I could have gone my whole life and been very happy _not _knowing that," Ron said, looking slightly green.

"What _is _the mental equivalent of – " Hermione began, her face lit with scholarly interest, as well as a rather girly desire for more details.

Ron cut her off by tugging her into his arms and slapping his hand over her mouth. "You don't need to answer that one, mate."

Harry, who was currently suffering through a second double-animagus transformation, had never had any intention of telling Hermione anyway. He didn't know why, but he felt oddly protective of Sirius's and Remus's relationship – maybe because he knew they'd had so little time together – and had no plan to betray any more of their confidence than was necessary.

"Will it work to help control Moony?" Harry asked, once he'd recovered enough that his thoughts didn't feel like they were being dipped into a vat of warm marmalade.

_:-Yes.-: _Remus sounded as dazed as Harry felt. _:-Yes. I think it might.-:_

"Good," Harry said, pulled his thoughts together as much as he could. "Shrieking Shack in a week's time. Right now, we still have some research to do. The sooner we can get you guys some bodies, the better."

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It was later that evening, when Harry was in his office marking second year essays (with unwelcome advice and heckles from the Marauders in his head) that there was a timid knock on his door. He looked up, frowning, and called out, "Come in?"

The door squeaked open a bit, and a nervous-looking Slytherin first-year with long, dark pigtails peered round it. "Professor?"

"Miss Evenberg?"

"I think you should come to the second floor corridor. There's a …I mean, I think Daniel and Goldrod are in trouble. I don't mean to dob on them, but it's worse than usual, and I think you should come."

Harry was already on his feet and on the way to the door. "The second floor? By the charms classroom?"

"Yes sir," Emma Evenberg trotted to keep up with him on her short legs. "I tried to find Professor Flitwick, but he wasn't in his office. I wouldn't have come, but it's third years - Slytherins. It's hardly fair, five against two. I was right to tell, wasn't I?"

"Yes, of course you were." Harry broke into a jog and Emma ran to keep up. "Is it always the same people who bully them?"

"No sir. Sometimes it's others. Gryffindors, too."

Harry glanced down to see her breathless, upturned face. "You did the right thing, Miss Evenberg. Now, I think it would be best if you went away and I handled it from here."

"But…"

"Emma, what do you think they would do if they knew you told? It wasn't long ago that I was at school. I know how it goes."

Emma wasn't a pretty child, but there was something almost compelling about her round, worried little face that reminded Harry a lot of a Labrador puppy. He wondered how she had got into Slytherin. Her actions tonight screamed Gryffindor. Though the way she slowed down and stopped showed a sensible Slytherin-amount of self-preservation.

"You'll help them, won't you?"

"Of course I will. That's my job." When she didn't look entirely convinced he added, "Besides, if I can take down Voldemort, five Slytherin third years will be no trouble."

Sirius and James snorted sceptically in his head.

Harry ignored them and jogged off again in the direction of the second floor, leaving Emma to stare after him, twisting her hands. When he arrived, he was very glad he'd left her behind. The scene in front of him was brutal. People always forgot how cruel children can be, and the sight of the two cowering little figure surrounded by five bigger boys who taking turns to shoot spells at them was something Harry hoped he'd never see again.

"How _DARE you!_" He roared, causing all five attackers to flinch. Two of them even dropped their wands in shock.

"Step away from those children _right now_." Harry kept his voice low, but allowed his hot anger to colour his voice. The third years had gone as grey as flobberworms. There were times when his reputation as a dark wizard killer came in useful. The other three dropped their wands as well, and all five stepped away from the two boys on the floor until they stood with their backs against the wall opposite Harry.

Alex Goldrod and Daniel Macresco huddled together, and Harry didn't miss the way Alex had been trying to shield his smaller friend with his own body. Bull-headed Gryffindor through and through. They seemed to have gained a number of boils, tentacles and green slime in unlikely places, and Daniel had been hit by a hair-growing charm and was beginning to show a remarkable resemblance to Cousin It from the Addam's Family.

Harry was so angry he was physically shaking, and the air around him was heated and crackling with magic. He was glad to see the bullies hadn't missed this and were making a spirited effort to burrow through the wall opposite him with their shoulder-blades in an attempt to escape.

"I have _never _in my life been as angry with a student as I am with you five right now," Harry told them, his voice _just _this side of calm. "You can consider yourself _very_ lucky that you are escaping this with three months detention three evenings a week with Mr. Filch – and I'll make sure they are _very_ unpleasant - the loss of sixty House points, letters home to your parents, and a trip up to the headmistress's office to explain exactly _what _you were doing here this evening and _why._ Do I make myself clear?"

The five boys nodded their heads very gently, as though afraid they might fall off if they were too emphatic.

"Well?" Harry leaned forward. "What are you waiting for. _Headmistress! Now!_ And I'll be checking up with her to see you didn't get _lost _on the way."

Harry was sure that the speed they left the corridor was almost inhuman.

_:-You are one scary man when you're riled up,-: _Sirius said, his voice almost awed. :-_No wonder Voldemort was so afraid of you.-:_

_:-I've improved since I battled Voldemort,-: _Harry said grimly.

_:-Then I do believe we might actually have a chance at a new life after all,-: _said Lily, and passed a calming mental caress over his mind.

"S-sir?"

Harry glanced around to see Alex and Daniel half-standing, half-leaning lopsidedly against one another. "Come on, lads. Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey."

He was surprised when the two shook their heads violently.

"Why not?"

"She said that if we came in one more time, she would see our Heads of House and make sure we weren't allowed to be friends for our own personal safety," Alex said. His gangly limbs seemed even more likely to collapse that usual, and his scruffy blonde-brown hair was dripping with green slime. Daniel, leaning against him, was now almost completely obscured by hair that had, oddly enough, remained the same, tight strawberry blonde curls that usually only adorned his head.

Harry hesitated, unwilling to break up their friendship, but also knowing he was unlikely to know just how much damage had been done to the boys. Hexes mutated and changed when used together and often had unexpected results.

_:-We'll help, Harry,-: _Remus said. _:-Believe me; with James and Sirius as friends, we spent a lot of time undoing mutant spells.-:_

"Alright, lads," he said, nodding to the children. "You can come to my office and I'll see what I can do. If I can't fix it, though, you'll have to go to Madame Pomfrey, okay?"

Alex and Daniel murmured agreement, and followed him to his office down the mercifully student-free corridors, tripping over hair and tentacles and leaving a trail of green slime.

_:-You'd better bring them all the way in,-: _Lily said, peering down at the boys through Harry's eyes. _:-This could take a while, and they might need to sit somewhere comfortable.-:_

"This way," he said, gesturing the boys through his office and into the door to his living quarters set in the back wall. They tripped through into his small living room and Harry sat them down side by side on his sofa and studied them.

_:-Do the tiny one first,-: _Sirius said. _:-If that hair gets any longer, he'll struggle to breath.-:_

"Daniel first, if that's okay," Harry said, and Alex nodded, shooting a worried glance at his friend. Slowly, Harry began unpicking the tangle of hexes and spells on the boy, being careful to follow the Marauder's instructions as perfectly as possible. He still remembered the carved wood nymphs whose heads he'd accidentally lopped off in the Three Broomsticks with a cleaning spell.

Daniel didn't say a word throughout the process, only voicing little squeaks and whimpers at some of the more uncomfortable sensations from the spell-reversal. Harry suddenly wondered if he'd ever actually heard the boy speak. It was easy to forget you hadn't in the face of Alex's noisy, confident personality. Was it deliberate on Alex's part, to save his small friend from having to speak when he didn't want to?

It was almost half an hour before the last of the spells was vanished and Harry cast a quick _scourgify _charm to clean Daniel's slime-smeared robes.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Fine, sir." Daniel looked at Alex who had been sitting patiently and uncomfortably on the other half of the sofa. Harry shifted to sit in front of him and began examining the spells. It was easier this time round as many of the spells were the same ones that had affected Daniel.

"So why did they attack you?" Harry asked, vanishing a tentacle.

"They don't like us being friends." Alex shook out a newly restored arm. "They say it's betraying our houses."

"Well, these ones are being punished, and I'm fairly sure they won't do it again, at least for a while," Harry said. "But you need to _tell _us what's going on if you want us to help you."

"The teachers just say that maybe it would be better if we just found friends in our own houses. Like any of them would be our friends anyway. Besides, _Daniel_ is my friend, and even if we stopped being friends, they would still bully him."

"Why?"

Alex glanced at the other boy, who had climbed down from the sofa, and was now sitting cross legged in front of the fire. Although he wasn't saying a word, the tilt of his head, and the small gestures of his hands seemed to indicate he was having an animated conversation with the fire. Or possible the grate.

"Things speak to him," Alex said, turning back and wincing when Harry absently cleared green slime out of his ear.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Speak to him? What sort of things?" He vanished the last of the tentacles and the boils, and cast _scourgify _on Alex's clothes and skin.

Alex didn't answer. Instead, he launched himself off the sofa and grabbed Daniel's wrist, just before the little hand entered the fire. Daniel turned to look up at him in bemusement. It struck Harry once again quite how unnerving that little face was with its pointed, pixie-like features, aristocratic cheekbones, and the tight curls that swept up on either side of his head like satyr horns. Mostly it was the black, black eyes that stood out sharply against his pale skin, with their slightly-larger-than-normal irises. He wasn't an ugly child, just very, very unsettling.

Harry realised that Alex was right. If it wasn't for him, Daniel would probably still be friendless and bullied. It was strange that the gangly, cheerful lad with the lop-sided smile had taken on such an odd child as a friend, when he had all the makings of someone who could have been very popular in his own house.

Alex was peering at Daniel's face now, still keeping a tight hold of his wrist. "You'll burn yourself," he admonished. "I told you not to do that."

Daniel looked down and mumbled something.

"I don't care what it said," Alex said, giving Daniel's arm a little shake. "You mustn't touch it, okay? You'll get hurt."

Daniel nodded and Alex relaxed, giving his wrist a comforting squeeze. "What did it say?"

"Us – flames," Daniel said, this time loud enough for Harry to hear.

"You and me?"

Daniel shook his head.

"All three of us here?"

He nodded. "From one fire. You light a candle from it, and then light another candle from that candle, and another from that one."

Alex glanced up at Harry, then back to his friend. "And we're candles?"

Daniel nodded again, having exhausted his supply of words for the day, or possibly, Harry thought, the week. He drooped against Alex's side and his eyes half-closed.

"You talk to fire?" Harry asked.

_:-He's insane,-: _Sirius said helpfully. _:-Happens in pureblood families. All the inbreeding, you know.-:_

_:-Don't be cruel, Sirius!-: _Lily snapped.

_:-I'm not.-: _To Harry's surprise, Sirius sounded as though he meant it. _:-It's true. It's a genetic defect. Look at Bella, or my mother.-: _He hesitated. _:-Even I can feel the pull of it sometimes, and that's the truth. I'm not using a clichéd phrase when I say that you guys kept me sane.-:_

"He talks to everything," Alex answered Harry, when it became clear that Daniel wouldn't. "Fire, trees, even Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts talks to him?"

"Sometimes she just cries," Daniel said.

Harry leant forward, fascinated. "Why?"

"Those that died in her walls. She couldn't protect them."

Harry sat back and looked at him, an odd feeling of kinship rising in his chest for the boy in front of him. He reminded him a little of Luna, but there was a darker edge to him, and a kind of sharper certainty to his oddity. He felt himself compelled to believe Daniel more readily, though why, he couldn't have said.

"He's not crazy," Alex said defensively, shifting a little, as though to shield Daniel.

"I never said he was," Harry said. "I, of all people, know about voices that talk to you that no one else can hear."

Alex relaxed a little. "What do you mean?"

Harry saw that Daniel's eyes turned to him as well, sharpening with attention and interest for the first time. "When I was one and Voldemort's killing curse reflected off my head, he left a little part of himself inside me. As I grew up, I could hear him in my head, sometimes. While I was at school, I had dreams when I was inside his head and seeing real things. I could feel what he was feeling. He had also given me the ability to talk to snakes, and in my second year, everyone thought I was evil because I could do it. A lot of people thought I was crazy as well. They wrote articles in the newspaper about how I was mentally unstable and disturbed. There were very few people that believed in me.

"Is that why you're helping us?"

"I believe that you should be able to choose your friends, and that you should stick by them, no matter what other people say."

Alex smiled, and Daniel looked at Harry with understanding in his odd eyes.

"Now it's almost curfew, so you two should be off to bed."

He ushered them to the door. "Try to keep out of the way of bullies, eh? Don't wander around deserted corridors."

"We don't have anywhere else to go," Alex said. We can't go in each other's common rooms, and we're banned from the library because some fourth year Gryffindors charmed a bookshelf on fire and blamed it on us."

Harry frowned at that. "Don't worry, lads. I'll see what I can do."

"Bye, Professor."

They slipped out, and disappeared down the corridor.


	6. Family Legends and Sacrum Obitus

Family Legends and Sacrum Obitus

**Discliamer: Still not mine**

**A/N: The story is really beginning to take of now. I'm very excited about it, and I hope you all are as well. :D**

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**Family Legends and **_**Sacrum Obitus**_

It was unfair, thought Harry, that being summoned to McGonagall's office as a professor was more nerve-wracking than being summoned to Dumbledore's office as a student. The problem was that, no matter how old he got, or what job he was doing, Professor McGonagall would always remain his formidable, sharp-tongued, no-nonsense Transfiguration teacher. Whereas Dumbledore had been a grandfatherly figure in Harry's life – as long as your definition of Grandfathers was someone who pulled you out of trouble and comforted you, and gave you wise advice while secretly spending most of his time plotting ways in which your murder could rid the world of an evil Dark Lord.

_:-Yup,-: _Sirius said. _:-Sounds like my Grandfather, alright. Both of them actually. Though I actually think they used to plot how my untimely demise might _help_ an evil Dark Lord rise in power, leaving them with all my inheritance in the process. -:_

_:-Dumbledore has a lot to answer for,-: _Lily muttered. _:-If I wasn't trapped in poor Harry's head, and had passed over to where he is instead, I would give him a piece of my mind.-:_

_:-You know,-: _said Remus. _:-After hearing that, I do believe I can guess who was responsible for our sudden reappearance in the land of the relatively living. Any man with enough power at his disposal would arrange to be on the other side of the curtain of death rather than suffer through one of the famous Evans-lectures.-:_

_:-Will you lot shut up, please?-: _Harry interrupted. _:-If I'm about to suffer through a McGonagall-lecture, I can't have you all chatting away in my head.-: _He muttered the password to the gargoyles leading to the headmistress's office and stepped onto the moving spiral staircase. 

_:-Besides, I have been a Potter for years, Sirius,-: _Lily said, her voice huffy._ :- Try and remember that please.-:_

_:-I can't,-: _Sirius said. _:-It's like your nickname now. You'll always be Evans. Even Prongs sometimes slips up and calls you that. I bet he does it all the time in moments of passion: 'oh, EVANS! YES! EVANS! –-: _He broke off as Lily's mental presence flared as red as her hair had once been. He quickly backed up and took refuge in the memory of Harry's first Quidditch match, spreading his own presence out so there was no room for Lily to follow him. _:-A most ungraceful catch,-: _he commented to Harry. _:-You look like you're about to puke.-:_

_:-Shut up or I'll kick you out-: _Harry stepped off the staircase and lifted his hand to knock as softly on the door as he could. If she didn't hear him, it wasn't his fault. _:-And don't use my memories as hiding places please. They're private!-:_

"Come in Professor Potter."

Harry grimaced and opened the door. Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk, her iron-hard bun still immaculate after a full day's work, and her expression stern as she peered over her glasses at Harry. "Take a seat."

Harry sidled over to the chair in front of the desk, feeling more and more like a naughty schoolboy. He perched on the edge and smiled hopefully at her.

_:-Old Minnie hasn't changed a bit, has she, lads?-: _James commented. _:-I wonder if she's forgotten about that small incident with the bucket, the canary and the blue cheese, yet?-:_

_:-No such luck, I'm afraid,-: _Remus told him. _:-Though, the last time she talked about it she actually sounded rather nostalgic. To be fair, she was looking back at it after twelve glorious Prongs-free years and she was mildly drunk on fine French port at the time.-:_

_:-Squiffy on French port?-: _Sirius said, sounding delighted. _:-Minnie, you old dog!-:_

_:-Please be quiet,-: _Harry pleaded, even as he tried to maintain his innocent smile. _:-I BEG you.-:_

"Are you quite alright, Professor Potter?" Professor McGonagall inquired pleasantly. "You look rather pained. I believe prune juice does wonders for loosing the bowels."

_:-Just kill me now,-: _Harry whimpered mentally.

"Tea, Professor Potter?" She waved her wand and prim-looking china tea set appeared on the desk between them. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Please stop calling me that," Harry begged. "It makes me feel like a child playing dress-up."

"I merely thought you might need reminding about what role you play in this school, Professor Potter." She placed a cup of tea in front of Harry. The tea was so strong it tried to consume the spoon Harry tentatively dipped into it by means of vigorous slurping, before making a spirited attempt to escape by oozing over rim of the cup. There were times when Harry began to realise why so many people in the wizarding world were more than a little loopy.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you're getting at, Professor," he admitted.

"It is a policy in this school that all students should be treated fairly. This means no ill-treatment of particular students, and also, no favouritism shown to any students by one teacher." She shot a significant look at Harry.

Harry, who had spent more than enough time in both Snape's and Slughorn's classes, stared at her incredulously. Even _Dumbledore _had shown favouritism.

Professor McGonagall did not even have the grace to look abashed at the blatant hypocrisy. "Although I am aware that a certain amount of favouritism is inevitable," she continued, "I have heard from various members of staff that over the last week, you have taken to allowing two first year students to hang around in your living quarters in the evenings. This is unacceptable."

Harry, suddenly horrified by the implications of her words, quickly said; "It's nothing _bad_, Professor. They just play exploding snap and do their homework."

She sighed and sipped her tea. "I am aware of that, Harry. We do have wards on the school that protect children from untoward behaviour. I know that your interactions with the boys are…fatherly?...in nature." She paused, reflecting on her words for a second before saying, "Perhaps big-brotherly is more the word. Still, it can't go on."

Harry scowled and viciously poked his escaping tea back into his cup with his spoon. His tea spat a congealing sugar-lump at his eye in retaliation. Harry's estimation of McGonagall's power and bravery sky-rocketed as he watched her take another sip of her tea without being mauled. "They have nowhere else to go," he said. "You talk about fairness and-and equal treatment of all students, but I know you see as much as I do that the Slytherin students are ostracised by the other Houses even more than before. I know that you and the other teachers have been encouraging Daniel and Alex to make friends in their own Houses, but they don't _want _to. And you should be _encouraging _inter-House relations."

Professor McGonagall looked tight-lipped at the accusations, but oddly, didn't protest.

"Besides," Harry said. "Daniel would be eaten alive in this school without Alex to protect him. He's…strange. I can't figure out how much of it is genetic pureblood insanity, and how much of it is genuine magic. You probably haven't even noticed. No one notices him because Alex shields him."

_:-You're walking a dangerous line here, mate,-: _Sirius said. _:-Do you really want to rile up the she-dragon with accusations like that?-:_

"Perhaps it's _you_, Potter, who should try to get to know him better," Professor McGonagall snapped, her calm façade showing a hairline crack. "If you had, you would know he isn't a pureblood."

Harry sat back in his chair, the wind briefly taken from his sails. "What? Are you sure? He _looks _pureblood. He's got those cheekbones, like the Blacks. And he's – you know – pointy, like Malfoy. And then there's the raving. And the magic - you can feel it radiating off him. Like you could with Dumbledore or Sirius. I don't know if it means he's very powerful, or whether it's just that if you've grown up with magic, you're more naturally … tuned into it."

"If course I'm sure," she said, having regained her stern-teacher composure. "He's a halfblood. His mother was a muggle, and his father, from what I remember, was the son of a Muggleborn wizard."

"Was?" Harry asked. "They're dead?"

"His mother is. I believe his father is in St. Mungo's psychiatric ward. Perhaps you were not far wrong when you said the mental instability might be genetic."

"Well, who does he live with?"

"His father's sister. Really, though, Potter. We didn't come here to discuss Mr. Macresco's family history. We came here to discuss your favouritism."

Harry glared at her, shoving his tea away from him as it tried to launch itself at his chest. "It's not favouritism, it's necessary. The day you can guarantee that those boys can be friends safely and without being bullied, is the day I will consider banning them from their only safe sanctuary."

Professor McGonagall leaned forward. Peering at him over his spectacles. "You really feel strongly about this, don't you, Harry?"

"_Yes_." Harry pressed his fingers to his forehead tiredly. "I sacrificed a lot to save this world from prejudice and unfair brutality. When I see the fighting and the bullying, and the way the others look down on the Slytherins… I just begin to wonder why I bothered. It's all just happening again, only in reverse. I can't claim that I was an angel at school. My rivalry with Malfoy was pretty bad, but there was never anything as _cruel _and _brutal _as what goes on now."

To his surprise, Professor McGonagall smiled at him. "I have a proposition for you, Professor Potter."

"What is it?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Professor Slughorn has asked to be relieved of his duties as Slytherin Head of House. He claims he is getting too old for it now, though I suspect he feels it detracts from his standing in society. I agree that the House rivalry has to end. Not only does it affect the school, but Hogwarts is such an integral part of our society that it has repercussions long after people have left. I would like to offer you the post of Slytherin Head of House."

"WHAT?"

_:-WHAT?-:_

_:-WHAT?-:_

_:-WHAT?-:_

_:-Great Merlin!-:_

"If anything can drag the name of Slytherin out of the mud it's you."

Harry felt knocked off-kilter and dazed. This was partly due to shock, and partly due to the fact that there was a rather violent argument going on in his head between Sirius and James (against all things Slytherin), and Remus and Lily (willing to give them a chance).

"Erm…I'll think about it," he said faintly. "It's…that's a lot to take in. I'll let you know. Er…I think I'll go now, if you don't mind." He stood up and stumbled towards the door, knowing there would be no use in attempting any more conversation with the noise cluttering up his brain.

"Potter!" He paused and glanced over his shoulder at Professor McGonagall who was looking at him very sternly. "I trust there will be no more excursions for our young, mismatched pair to your rooms?"

The voices in his head fell silent as the tension in the room shot up like lava in an active volcano. "I don't remember promising anything of the sort, Professor," Harry said, his voice tight as he struggled to keep his Evans-inherited temper.

She frowned, her lips as white as ice, and her eyes just as cold. "Professor Potter, _I _am the authority here. I am Headmistress in this school!"

Harry's fingers clenched hard on the door frame, his whole body hot with protective fury. "Professor McGonagall, _I _am the Defeater of the Dark Lord. I am the Saviour of the Wizarding World." He let the implications of _that _settle in her mind. "Your call."

He turned and left the room.

There were many things Harry loved about Hogwarts, but since he had returned to teach, he had started spending more and more time in the kitchen. He didn't know what it was about the huge, bustling, stove-and-counter lined room that attracted him, but he felt drawn here whenever he needed a break. Perhaps it was because the clunk of crockery and pots, the squeaking of house-elf voices and the general bustle of cooking and cleaning blocked out the incessant conversations in his head. Or perhaps it was because the smell of the kitchen – mingling scents of clean linen, cooking food and wood stoves – reminded him of less complicated times in his childhood: summers spent at the Weasleys, being fussed over for the first time in his life.

Whatever the reason, it was in the kitchens that he was to be found later that evening seated at a well-scrubbed table with Hermione and Ron (who had stopped by after work for an update on Operation Masters of Death, as Sirius and James insisted on calling it).

Ron was currently choking so hard that pumpkin juice trickled out of his nose.

"You could have at least waited to break the news to him when his mouth was empty," Hermione said reproachfully, hammering her boyfriend on the back.

"I didn't know he would react like that," Harry lied. He'd felt in need of cheering up, and it was impossible to remain serious when Ron was turning a bright magenta that clashed horribly with his hair and dribbling pumpkin juice out of his nostrils.

"Yes you did," said Hermione, who was impossible to fool. "Now tell us what you said? And _why _she offered. I mean, you must have done _something_ to make her think that putting the Golden Boy of Gryffindor in charge of a House full of Slytherins would be a good idea."

"I was only standing up for Daniel and Alex," Harry said. "And I was saying it was really bad the way that the other Houses treat the Slytherins."

"Who cares?" Ron had recovered and was dabbing at the front of his shirt with a napkin provided for him by a rather horrified looking house elf. "They deserve it, slimy gits."

Harry scowled at him. "So you're saying Alex and Daniel should do what the teachers say and stop being friends? Alex should leave Daniel to fend for himself?"

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again. Having visited Harry's quarters while the two boys had been playing chess in the living room, he had rather taken to the odd little Slytherin who seemed to have the same flair for tactics that he did himself.

"They're not all evil," Hermione added. "They're pushed down the wrong paths by their families, their peers and the expectations of the Wizarding World itself."

_:-Still a bunch of evil buggers,-: _James muttered in Harry's head. _:-On the whole.-: _Harry chose to ignore him and let Lily deal with it.

"So," Ron said, looking as though he were struggling to grasp a difficult concept, "you're going to take the job then? _Snape's _job?"

"Snape was a good man," said Harry. He always felt extra defensive when the man was mentioned – perhaps due to genetic guilt over Snape's mistreatment at his family's hands. "He loved my mother."

James growled.

"He was still a slimy git," Ron pointed out. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't deny this. "You still haven't answered my question," Ron added.

Harry groaned and dropped his head to the table. "I don't _know. _I have a headache, my mind is overtaken by four other people, all my muscles are aching and I am finding the raw meat that house elf is cutting up disturbingly appetising."

_:-Oh, Harry, I'm sorry,__- _Remus's mind reached out to touch Harry's consciousness apologetically.

"Tomorrow's full moon," said Hermione. "Do you think you'll change?"

"Remus says probably not," Harry said, without lifting his head. "He says he usually felt much worse than this the day before the full moon. He said he could feel all his joints trying to click out of place and his skin twitching and muscles spasming and stuff. He says if I was changing, my eyes would begin to change colour and I would start doing wolfy things like growling and snapping unless I was deliberately controlling myself. _I _just feel like crap. I reckon I'll still go to the Shack, though. I don't know how far the changes _will _go."

Harry didn't mention that the thought that Remus felt so much worse than this made him ache in sympathy. He didn't tell Hermione that he had as much respect for Remus's determination to keep going on with life in spite of his monthly torture, as he did for his mother and father's sacrifice of their lives. It was something he might have told his friends once, but that he now felt was too private to say now. He wasn't sure if that was a normal part of growing up, or if his experiences in the Last Battle really had distanced him from them that much.

_:- A little of both, perhaps, -: _said Lily, who seemed to be much more attuned to his private thoughts than the men. Perhaps it was because her essence had lived in him through her sacrifice for so long, it had become a deeper part of him.

"Any news on Operation Master of Death?" Harry asked, deciding to change the subject.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Yes, actually. I found a book that mentions another book called _Sacrum Obitus_ – a very rare pureblood text that loosely translates to 'Holy Death', though the word '_Sacrum_' actually refers to a 'holy object'. So really it means something like 'Holy Objects of Death'. Apparently there were only three copies of it in existence. They belonged to three powerful pureblood families for a many centuries. You'll never guess which ones."

"Er…" Harry though about the Resurrection Stone set into the Gaunt's familial ring, and the fact that their famous ancestor, Slytherin, was probably descended from the original owner of the ring, Cadmus Peverell. "The Gaunts?"

"Right!" Hermione eyes gleamed in a rather frightening and maniacal way. "Who else?"

Harry inched away from her and noticed Ron doing the same.

_:-The Potters, of course!-: _Sirius interjected.

"The Potters?" Harry said in bemusement. "I've had it all this time?"

"Not anymore, unfortunately," Hermione said, the gleam in her eyes only dampening a little. "They were the first to lose their copy in the early fifteen-hundreds." She looked at Harry meaningfully. "The Goldrod's lost their copy in the late seventeen-hundreds. There's no record of what happened to either of the books."

"Goldrod?" Ron asked. "As in Harry's little _Alex _Goldrod?"

"Alexander Jasper Goldrod," Hermione clarified. "Last known living descendant of Antioch Peverell, original owner of the Elder Wand. I looked up his family when I found out."

"How could Antioch Peverell have had a living descendent?" Harry asked. "He was killed the night he got the Elder Wand from Death."

Hermione shrugged. "Family legend says that he celebrated his victory over Death by going to the nearest tavern and 'drinking and whoring'. He boasted about his new wand, saying it was the most powerful of all time." she pulled a sheaf of notes out her bag and rifled through them. "… '_And on this nite of his ownne deathe, Antioch Peverell did boast that hiss wande was a Wande of Glorie, a Stick of Deathe, a Rodde of Power that was worthe more than its ownne weight in goldde_.'"

"Goldrod," Harry murmured, his fingers clenching the edge of the table.

"Yes," Hermione agreed quietly. "It says that nine months after he was killed that night, one of the tavern wenches gave birth to his child. She called him 'Goldrod' in memory of his father. Most people say it's a family legend and probably untrue, but they somehow got hold of a copy of _Sacrum Obitus_, which only seems to be owned by the families descended from the Peverells. Though that's not saying they didn't buy it off someone _because_ of their family legend."

_:-And no one has any idea of where any of the books are-: _Remus asked. His mental voice sounded deeper than it usually did, and slightly rough. Harry guessed it was also a symptom of the approaching full moon.

"I didn't say that," Hermione said, once Harry had repeated Remus's question. "According to all records, as far as anyone knows, the last copy of _Sacrum Obitus _is still in the possession of the Gaunt family. I'd say that's our starting point if we want to trace it down."


	7. Full Moons and Future Prospects

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, not mine.**

**Hi! Sorry for the long wait. I am in the middle of changing betas. This chapter as been beta'd by ****Xx The Grey Lady xX, so many thanks to her. Hope you enjoy!**

**Moonsign x**

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**Full Moons and Future Prospects**

Harry felt his stomach roll with apprehension as he climbed the splintering stairs up to the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack. The night of the full moon had come way too soon for his physical and mental comfort.

_:-They always do,-: _Remus told him, and even his mental voice seemed to tremor and ripple with some deep pain that went beyond the physical change. _:-When you wake the next morning and you__'__re burning and melting with pain, you can get through because you think to yourself that it__'__s all over for a month. It__'__s a long time until the next one. But it never is. It__'__s never quite long enough__…__-:_

He trailed away, obviously realising, in spite of his condition, that he was being far from comforting. Harry felt Sirius – already transformed into Padfoot's mind – shift closer to Remus's twitching, pain-ridden mental presence.

Harry staggered into the bedroom. His skin felt too small for his body. It felt as though his bones had sprouted thorns like a cactus that pierced and tore at his organs every step he took.

_:-It__'__s okay, lad.-: _Remus's voice was rough and vague, as though his mind was being tugged away. _:-I don__'__t think you__'__ll actually change. It usually feels worse than this.-:_

Worse than this? Harry's pain-twitching skin shuddered in sympathy, and his respect and awe for the quiet, unassuming man who was his surrogate godfather grew enormously. He felt dizzy at the thought of how much strength of will it must take to go on living day after day with the shadow of impending agony hanging over you all the time.

He dropped onto the bed, which swayed and groaned with the impact, and then proceeded to collapse abruptly, all four legs snapping outwards in a way that reminded Harry's rapidly disintegrating mind of a cartoon deer on ice – an image that could only have come from spying on Dudley's TV watching as a child. A cloud of dust rose from the ancient mattress, then settled again on Harry's collapsed form.

James (now radiating Prong's slow mental presence) and Lily reached out together to touch Harry's mind with a worried mental caress. He tried to lean into it, but it was as if his mind were covered in slippery oil, causing him to slide away from them towards obliviousness.

_:-Moon comes! Moon comes!-: _Even as his human mind began to trickle away, Harry felt himself wince at the sheer lack of sanity in Remus's voice. It was not so much words as a howl of mingled anguish and raw bloodlust that burned and spread through Harry's body like hot acid. The coiled, animal presences of James and Sirius shoved Lily back into what remained of Harry's human mind, and they stood pressed together as the moon rose and sent its sharp silver fire to transform the minds of Remus - and Harry, to whom he was now so intrinsically connected.

…It was hunger and rage and trapped_trappedTRAPPED! _The moon that usually set him free was calling to him fruitlessly while he was confined in this _cageTRAPPEDcage _- this weak, flimsy body that tore easily like small-young-prey as he tried to claw his way to _run-howl-HUNT_ .

He could sense his pack – _his PACK _who had been gone so long – but they were trapped, too, in this small prison built of _manBLOODflesh._

Scratching and biting and ripping, while pack – Padfoot! Prongs! (And where was the small squeaking one? The litter runt, Wormtail?) – tried to distract him. But no, they must run_huntHOWL _and it was up to _MeMoonyHarry _to break them free.

_Don__'__t worry, Padfoot-mate, Prongs __–__ we__'__ll run, we__'__ll hunt, I must just break free of this shuddering, tearing little body__…_

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Hermione's voice raised in a feminine shriek of shock and horror was not the most pleasant thing to wake to – especially when Harry's nervous system realised he was conscious and started sending up alerts for immediate attention from various parts of his body. Red pain flags were waved helpfully from arms (chewed, clawed and full of old dust and splinters from the rickety wooden floor), legs (likewise chewed and clawed, with an added smattering of wood-burn from crawling on his knees when his mind was in a lupine state), hands and fingers (worn raw and possible broken), head (splitting open in multiple-personality agony) and mouth (aching and glued shut by something thick, metallic and sticky that Harry didn't want to think about).

The floor under him was shaking and creaking as Ron and Hermione hurried over to kneel beside him, and his wounds flared in scarlet-pain protest to the disturbance.

Harry considered telling them to sod off and leave him to die in peace, but that would involve waking up properly, prying his mouth open, speaking from a throat worn raw from screaming, and possibly opening his eyes which were also glued shut by the nameless metallic glue as his jaw.

"Oh God, Harry!" Hermione said, her probing fingers setting his nerve ends screaming. "Please, please don't be dead!"

_I'm not dead, you stupid woman, _Harry thought at her. _Dead people don't hurt this much. Believe me – been there, done that._

_:-Harry?-: _James's relieved sounding voice suddenly filled his head, sounding so impossibly brittle and bright that its sharp edges seemed to cut into the bruised mess that was Harry's mind. Harry gave a mental whimper and curled in on himself, trying to block out all voices, both mental and physical.

_:-Is he awake?-: _Lily's presence moved up beside her husband's as Harry tried to curl away from them – an impossible task since they were sharing his head. He groped his way back towards unconsciousness. At least then he wouldn't _know _he was in pain.

_:-Come away from him,-: _Sirius's more distant mine-voice ordered. _:-Can__'__t you see you__'__re hurting him?-:_

_:-But__…__-: _Lily reached out towards him, radiating dark burgundy maternal worry and pain. James gently held her back, wrapping her presence up with his own.

_:-We don__'__t want to hurt him, love.-: _Lily sagged against him. _:-How__'__s Moony?-: _James added.

_:-Not good,-: _Sirius's voice sounded thick with worry. _:-Because the change was only mental, the wolf isn__'__t locked into waiting for a physical form for itself. It__'__s trying to claw its way back out now. It__'__s really hurting him, Prongs! What do I do?-:_

_:-Oh Merlin, Padfoot, I don__'__t know. We can__'__t _do _anything! If Harry were physically healed, he could probably help Remus fight back the wolf, but he__'__s just as bad.-:_

The Marauders' voices were interrupted by ones in the more physical world.

"…Take him to Madame Pomfrey," Ron was saying.

"We can't!" Hermione snapped. "What are we supposed to tell her?"

"He'll _die _if we don't. In the name of Merlin, Hermione, _look _at him. I've never seen that much blood _anywhere_ before."

_Oh,_ Harry thought, with the irritatingly stubborn part of his mind that insisted on clinging to consciousness. _That__'__s why I feel like this. Blood loss._

Then his eyes opened – a difficult task considering they were glued and matted together with what Harry was beginning to realise was drying blood. The problem was, he hadn't performed said task. He had sent no instructions to his battered body to do anything other than lie there and possibly die, if it could do so quietly and unobtrusively.

Against his will, his sticky jaw worked its way open and his traitorous throat said, "Pomfrey. Now."

"Harry?" Ron's hand reached out for him, then stopped, hovering just above his damaged shoulder. "Are you sure, mate? Only, I don't really know how we're going to explain this."

"Merlin's balls! Just do it, Weasley. We can figure out what to tell her once he's not bleeding to death!"

"Weasley?" Ron asked, at the same time that Hermione said, "_He__'__s_ not bleeding to death?"

Harry's befuddled mind prodded the thing controlling his mouth and came to the disturbing conclusion that it wasn't himself. For one thing, his accent had never held that mouth-full-of-marbles aristocratic twang, and for another, he'd never, to his knowledge, made any reference to Merlin's genitalia.

_:-James!-: _Liy's voice sounded scandalised. _:-Who gave you permission to use poor Harry__'__s body like that?-:_

_:-Yeah,-: _Sirius interjected. _:-You said I wasn__'__t allowed to take a turn driving. Here, let me have a go.-:_

Before any one of the occupants of Harry's crowded mind could react, James's presence had been shoved away from the controls and Sirius's had taken over. Harry stirred weakly, this time trying to force himself _towards_ conscious control of his motor functions to prevent disaster.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice still contained that hint of aristocracy, but was not quite as deep. The earlier voice had scraped at Harry's lower vocal registers rather painfully.

"J-James?" Hermione asked, her face ashen.

"No, I shoved that prat out the way. It's Sirius now."

"Right," Hermione said faintly.

"Listen, Harry's not functioning right, and Moony's on the edge. Take us to Madame Pomfrey. I trust her. She looked after Moony for years. If we ask her to keep this a secret, she will. Please hurry, though. Remus is _really _not doing well, and he's not going to be able to hold back the wolf for long without Harry's help."

Harry wondered vaguely if his voice would ever take on that tone of all-encompassing love and worry when he was in control.

"_Damn_, this is weird," Ron said shakily, but he and Hermione quickly set about transfiguring a stretcher for Harry, then gently levitating him onto it. The pain was excruciating, and Harry passed gratefully into unconsciousness for a while.

He woke to the disturbing sensation of finding himself mid-conversation without his knowledge. He was surrounded by the potions-and-antiseptic smell of the Hogwarts hospital wing, the pain in his body lowered to a dull ache, and his limbs immobilised with bandages.

"Wa's goin'on?" he mumbled.

"We're having a hard time convincing Poppy we're telling the truth," he answered himself, in a rather disturbing falsetto that had the same accent as his Aunt Petunia.

"Good _God_, Lily, please stop taking control," he added again, this time in James's voice. "It's impossible to take you seriously when you make poor Harry talk like that."

Harry scrabbled his way to the front of his mind and peered out through his eyes. Judging by the faces of Ron, Hermione and Madame Pomfrey that were leaning over him, he was not the only one wondering if he had finally dropped over the edge of sanity.

"Bloo'y hell," he mumbled and fell back again, leaving Sirius in control.

"Ask us _anything_, Madame Pomfrey," Sirius begged. "Something that you and us would know and no one else would."

There was a long silence in the room before Madame Pomfrey, looking very unsure of herself and her own sanity, gave the smallest nod. "Very well. One thing that I know for a fact that no one else but Remus Lupin and I know. It was in your fifth year, after you played that ridiculously dangerous prank on Severus. Remus was in the hospital wing, and it was late at night. I woke to hear him calling for me and when I went to him, he was almost hysterical. What did he ask me then?"

Harry's mind was filled with a rush of guilt, pain and sorrow from all three remaining Marauders. Harry hadn't known until that point quite how dark that time of The Prank had been.

The quiet, curled presence of Remus that had been at the back of his mind slowly unwound and moved painfully to the front. "Of all the things to ask, Poppy," he rasped, and Harry's voice sounded broken and rough, as though dragged over course sandpaper. Sirius and James's presences moved up to huddle on either side of Remus.

Madame Pomfrey looked very guilty, but she raised her chin. "No one else but us knew about that," she said. "I have to be certain."

There was a long silence as everyone waited for Remus's answer. Harry could sense Sirius literally buzzing with concerned curiosity. Eventually, Remus took a deep breath, rasping air painfully into Harry's lungs. "Very well," he whispered. "If you have to know. I asked you to give me a potion…a…an overdose. I asked you – begged you -to…to kill me."

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It took Harry another day to be completely healed. He wasn't sure what Madame Pomfrey and Hermione had informed the staff, but no one questioned his absence when he returned to his teaching two days after the full moon.

It had been a very uncomfortable two days, the tension in his mind between the Marauders and Lily rising to a boiling point just as Harry was preparing for his first lesson back.

Remus, who had taken even longer to recover than Harry, took to curling alone at the back of Harry's mind, just on the edge of his consciousness. Sirius flitted back and forth in agitation – half approaching Remus, then backing away again to pluck irritably at Harry's surface memories in an effort to distract himself, sending up irrelevant pictures into Harry's mind as he tried to work. James and Lily hung around the edges, watching the display with growing concern.

This morning, Harry reached the end of his tether, and he slammed his books down on his desk and roughly shoved Sirius away from his private thoughts.

_:-For God__'__s sake, Sirius!-: _He snapped._ PLEASE stop poking round in my thoughts like that. I__'__m ill and headachy and I have to teach a class now and you keep DISTRACTING me!-: _

Remus stirred at the back of Harry's mind, and reached out a tendril of thought to Sirius. _:-Come here, Padfoot,-: _he said tiredly. _:-You__'__re upsetting Harry, and you have no right to poke around in his thoughts like that. He__'__s been very patient with you.-:_

Sirius's presence flared pink-orange in shame, and he slunk over to Remus, coming closer to the werewolf than he had in two days. _:-Sorry, Moony,-: _he mumbled, exuding an aura of guilt-ridden puppy.

_:-What__'__s wrong with you?-: _Remus asked, sounding more concerned than angry. _:-I__'__ve said I__'__m sorry. I didn__'__t mean to upset you. I never intended to tell you at all!-:_

_:-I _know_ you didn__'__t! That__'__s the problem. Don__'__t you see, Moony? I drove you to suicide and I didn__'__t even KNOW. None of us knew. We all thought you got through it in your calm Moony-ish way. You didn__'__t talk to me for ages, but that was to be expected. I didn__'__t know that you __–__ -:_

Sirius was interrupted by a sharp, mental poke from Remus. _:-Shut up, you silly mutt! Is _that _what you__'__ve been worried about? I thought you were mad because I kept it a secret!-: _Harry could sense James and Lily relaxing from where they quietly witnessed the scene from the edges. _:-You didn__'__t drive me to suicide, Sirius,-: _Remus continued. _:-Of course I didn__'__t really want to die. It was just one of those times when you wake up at two in the morning and everything seems irreparably broken and hopeless and wrong. James and Peter had gone back to the tower and I was __alone__ in the hospital wing drugged up on potions and in__pain. It was just for a moment that I wanted to die, but I promise you, it was only for a moment. As soon as Poppy started talking to me, I knew I was being stupid.-:_

Sirius shifted a little closer and tentatively reached out to touch Remus's curled presence. _:-A moment of wanting to die can be all it takes,-: _he said. _:-You can__'__t expect me to forgive myself for that.-:_

Harry had expected Remus to immediately attempt to dissuade Sirius from taking all blame, but instead there was a long silence in which Remus seemed to shimmer and become fainter as he became lost in his own thoughts. Then he said, _:-I don__'__t expect that.-: _Sirius tensed, but Remus reached out a mental tendril to touch him reassuringly. _:-Just as you can__'__t expect me to ever forgive myself for having so little faith in you that I left you to rot in Azkaban for twelve years.-: _Sirius tried to interrupt, but Remus stopped him as he continued. _:-Just as James and Lily will never forgive themselves for trusting Wormtail and leaving Harry to grow up in Petunia__'__s abusive home. Just as you will never forgive yourself for believing I was a Death Eater, and Harry will never forgive himself for being taken in by Voldemort__'__s scheme in his fifth year. We all have things that no matter what anyone says, we will never forgive ourselves for. The best we can hope to do is to learn from them and try to make up for them as we go on. We can__'__t let them hold us back. We__'__ve all betrayed one another at some point, but our love for each other balances that out. Don__'__t you see?-: _

If Sirius had had a physical form, Harry knew he would have been fighting back tears. As it was, the emotional ache emanating from his spiritual presence spread through Harry's own body and formed a hard ball of pain in his chest.

As the first students began trickling into his class, the mood in Harry's head deepened to one that was not so much contentment as acceptance and resolve.

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A week passed, and Harry slowly began to get back into the routine of teaching, researching the Deathly Hallows, getting to know his family, allowing Alex and Daniel use of his living room in the evenings, and generally being too exhausted to do anything other than drop into bed early every night.

The weekend seemed to approach at the speed of a lame snail, and when it arrived, Harry found himself awake at a dreadfully early hour from the excitement of having a full day to relax ahead of him – which, Remus had pointed out to him, made no sense at all.

"Do you actually _have_ anywhere else to live?" Harry asked Ron, as he opened the door to Hermione's room to see both his friends inside having a leisurely breakfast at the table under Hermione's living room window.

"Yeah," Ron said. "I'm still living at home with all Mum's fussing Can you really question why I spend so much time here with my girlfriend and best friend instead?"

The words came out a little more sharply than Ron usually would have spoken, and Harry frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

"Really bad news, I'm afraid," Hermione said. Harry suddenly noticed how pale both his friends looked. Hermione waved the _Daily Prophet._

"What is it?" Harry sat down beside Ron and tried to get a glimpse of the newspaper still in Hermione's hand.

"Barty Crouch has escaped from Azkaban," said Ron, who had never been one to beat around the bush.

Harry stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds. "But he's dead."

"Barty Crouch _Ju__nior_, Harry," Hermione said.

"They're _both _dead!" Harry glanced at their serious faces. "If this is a joke, guys, it's not a very funny one."

"For heaven's sake, Harry, it's not a joke. And Crouch wasn't killed. He was kissed. By a Dementor, if you remember." Hermione spread the paper out in front of Harry. "Or not, as the case may be."

Harry felt a sick lurching in his stomach as he saw the headline. '_Voldemort__'__s most loyal supporter escaped from Azkaban and out for revenge!__'_

_:-I hate headlines like that,-: _Sirius commented. _:-I__'__ve seen enough of them to last me a lifetime. Or - you know - deathtime. -:_

Harry ignored him, unable to look away from the words. "But…how? Did he bribe his way out of getting kissed? I thought he was soul-sucked - just a walking corpse, really. How can anyone function like that?"

"They say he killed them," Ron said.

"Who?"

"The Dementors. They say he has found a way to kill them, and that's how he avoided getting kissed. They didn't realise he'd done it, because he acted like he had been kissed, and all the Dementors stayed away from him – wouldn't go anywhere near him. They had to get wizards to come and give him his food. Apparently one time he managed to stick his arm through the bars and pick the pocket of one of the wizards, and that's how he escaped. Left a trail of dead Dementors behind him."

"Dead Dementors?" Harry said faintly.

"All that's left is black rags and grey slime. It's like they melt and explode."

Harry sagged back in his chair. "Of all the people to be free and out for revenge, it had to be one of the only two people who actually _liked_ Voldemort."

_:-TWO people liked him?-: _James asked incredulously. _:-Who else was mad enough to do that?-:_

_:-You just answered your own questions, mate,-: _Sirius said. ­_:-__'__Who was mad enough?__'__ My darling cousin Bellatrix, of course.-:_

"That's not all, Harry," Hermione told him, her voice gentle. "They've taken everyone who was suspected of being a Death Eater and was cleared for some reason back into custody – Malfoy, his mother, some of the Ministry officials…and I'm afraid they've temporarily retracted Sirius's pardon. Apparently they have no proof he even died, so they're holding his name in reserve as well. They think Crouch must have had help to come up with a way to defeat the Dementors."

"WHAT!" Harry slammed his fists down on the table, making the toast rack jump in surprise and scuttle on silver legs to cower under Hermione's arm. "They can't do that! That's the _only_ reward I asked for for saving this bloody world! They _can__'__t _take it away!"

"I'm _so _sorry, Harry." Hermione reached out to put a hand on his arm. "They think you might have been Confunded or something." She sighed when Harry shook her hand off. "They're frightened and they need someone to blame."

_:-Don__'__t worry, love,-: _Lily added, brushing calm tendrils of thought over his furious mind. _:-We won__'__t let anything happen to Sirius. As soon as we all have bodies, James and I will go and prove to them that Sirius is innocent. This isn__'__t the end of the world. We__'__ve lived through worse than this.-:_

_:-She__'__s right,-: _Remus said, and Harry felt himself relax a little at the familiar note of capable calm in his voice. _:-This isn__'__t such a terrible thing. Even if Crouch wasn__'__t kissed, he will be insane from spending all those y__ear__s in Azkaban. He__'__s irrational. He__'__s bound to make mistakes, and the Aurors will catch him. You know they will.-:_

"I don't know anything," Harry said aloud. "The Ministry has failed the Wizarding World many times before. I don't see why this time will be any different."

"Seriously, mate," said Ron, looking unfazed by Harry's seemingly irrelevant remark. He and Hermione had grown used to Harry's silent conversations with his family. "There is really nothing we can do about it now. We should concentrate on things we _can _do – like sorting out the Deathly Hallows stuff."

Harry shook his head. "It just seems like we're caught in this stupid cycle where, just when you think everything is going to be okay and you can have a normal life, a new Dark wizard pops up out of the woodwork. I think the Aurors need to catch Crouch before he can gain any real power. We _don__'__t _want another Voldemort on our hands."

"_Your _hands, you mean," Hermione said, her expression grim. "We all know people will turn to you when things get tough. It's not fair. You don't have a _duty_ to save the world on a regular basis."

Harry coaxed the toaster out from under Hermione's elbow and helped himself to a piece, though he wasn't really hungry. "I do, really," he told her. "If you _can _do something that can save lives and help people, you _should. _Otherwise, how could you live with yourself?"

"This is _not _you problem, mate," Ron said firmly. "And we should stop talking about it now, and concentrate on the other things we need to be doing." He gave Harry a significant look. "For example, did you go and tell McGonagall you don't have time to be the Slytherin head of House yesterday evening?"

"Er…" Harry ducked his head as his family tutted in his head. "Sort of."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Well – I went to go and see her. But I sort of agreed to do it."

The others stared at him. "_Why?_" Ron demanded. "I thought we agreed that we have too much to do without you having the extra responsibility."

"But I could make a difference," Harry explained, "to all those Slytherin children who are going to be discriminated against for the rest of their lives otherwise." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm thinking about telling the press I was almost put into Slytherin in my first year as well."

"_WHAT?_" chorused six voices. Harry winced, and wondered how long it would be before he could dish out bodies to the invaders in his head so he could retreat for a bit of peace and quiet.


	8. Of Slytherins and Snarky Portraits

**Disclaimer: Not mine, of course.**

**This story has been nominated for the Quibbler Awards, so if you like it, feel free to go and vote for it. You know, with just one vote, you can keep an author happy for many months.**

**Thanks for all the reviews for last chapter. I'm glad you're all getting into this story. Lots more to come, I promise. Just to warn those of you who might be upset by it, more slash will follow later Much later. But I'll say no more than that or I'll ruin it. xxx**

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**Of Slytherins and Snarky Portraits**

When Professor McGonagall announced Harry's decision to accept the post of Head of Slytherin, no one could say they were particularly surprised by the reactions of the rest of the school. The entire hall had erupted in a volcano of shock and dismay from every table – including the Slytherins.

Only two of the students didn't look horrified by the news, and Harry felt a surge of affection for Alex at the Gryffindor table who gave him a wide grin and a thumbs-up (and was shoved off the bench by his housemates for the effort), and Daniel at the Slytherin table who looked at Harry with those large black eyes and tilted the corner of his mouth up in one of the only smiles Harry had ever seen on his pointed little face.

_:-Merlin's balls, Harry,-: _James murmured. _:-They're going to eat you alive.-:_

_:-Yes, thank you, Dad,-: _Harry said tartly. _:-I can see that for myself.-:_

_:-Maybe you can change your mind__.__-: _Lily paced up and down in his mind, radiating distress.

_:-You can't back out now,-: _said Sirius. _:-You'll lose all credibility if you do. Besides, Marauders never back out of anything.-:_

_:-It wouldn't be backing out so much as – -: _Lily began, but was interrupted by a gasp from the teachers' table.

"Good heavens!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, flinging her chair back as the whole staff table lurched to its feet. Harry tuned back into the world outside his head and groaned at the scene before him.

It was no clear who had thrown the first roast potato, but it came from the direction of the Ravenclaw table and had hit a large Slytherin sixth-year boy on the ear. The Slytherin boy picked up his napkin and carefully wiped his ear, before raising his wand in an elegant gesture, levitating a giant vat of gravy to hover over the nearest bench of Ravenclaws, then, before any of the teachers could stop him, upending it over them in a thick brown wave.

What followed was the most impressive food fight the Great Hall had ever seen. The older Slytherin students lined up against their table, erecting a shield to protect themselves from the rain of gravy, potatoes, and boiled vegetables, while the younger ones skittered in between, retaliating as much as they could.

_:-And that,- _Harry told his family, _ :-is why I had no intention of backing out anyway. Look at how they've all ganged up on the Slytherins. I'm not saying they don't have their bad points, but there are some good children in that House who are going to be discriminated against for the rest of their lives.- _A little second-year Slytherin disappeared under a deluge of peas magically flung his way by four Ravenclaw third-years. _:-You expect me to back off, Mum?-:_

Lily sighed as Harry pulled out his wand and ploughed into the fray to join the rest of the teachers in regaining order. They flung body-bind spells right and left, targeting the older students first. Even so, it was a long time before every student in the hall was frozen into - some of them in some very incriminating positions.

"_Never_ in all my years at Hogwarts!" Professor McGonagall's voice was magically enhanced and echoed round the hall. The students' frozen faces couldn't move, but Harry was aware that many of them were suddenly coming to their senses. He could tell by the wild looks in their eyes as McGonagall swept through their ranks, pausing particularly on those students frozen in the act of flinging food

"Look at yourselves!" she continued. "Are you _proud_ of this? You call yourselves the noble Houses of Hogwarts – does this look noble to you? Three quarters of the school ganging up on the other quarter for nothing more than the fact they were sorted into a different House. You older students! I can see from here that there are _three Gryffindor fifth years_ attacking two tiny Slytherin third years. Is this your famous bravery and nobility? I am ashamed to call you my House."

The air was heavy with embarrassment and guilt.

"In fact," McGonagall continued more quietly into the strained, food-scented air, "the only House here that I can see showing any sign of loyalty or nobility is Slytherin."

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table, where the older students were still frozen in the act of shielding their table and their younger housemates from the attack. Deep down, Harry knew that it probably had a lot to do with the Slytherin survival instinct. They had so few allies that they knew it was important to protect the ones they had. And knowing how cunning some of the older Slytherin students were, Harry was willing to bet that a fair number of them had guessed what method the teachers would use to stop the fight and had arranged themselves into complimentary positions deliberately.

Still, the fact remained that for whatever reason, the students of Slytherin had protected one another, and right now, Harry genuinely did feel ashamed of his own House – many of whom had been caught actually bullying.

"One hundred points off Slytherin House, and _two hundred _off each of the rest of the other three Houses," Professor McGonagall said grimly. The frozen students strained to voice their protests. "This is not just for today, but also for the many, many times I, and the rest of the teachers, have observed instances of unfair treatment of the Slytherin students in this school. For a month, you will all be banned from leaving your common rooms after dinner without permission from a teacher. All Hogsmeade visits until Christmas will be cancelled. And if _any_ of you step so much as _one toe_ out of line in the next few weeks, believe me when I say I will have no problem cancelling all Quidditch matches for the rest of the year!"

_:-Ouch!-: _James said. _:-Now that's what I call incentive. Minnie's got tougher in her old age. I didn't think it was possible.-:_

"In a few moments we will release you from the body bind," McGonagall continued. "You will line up silently alongside your tables and follow your Heads of House to your common rooms. If I hear of _any _untoward behaviour, there will be severe penalties."

There was a long silence as she looked grimly around the food-splattered hall. Then she raised her wand and muttered a few words. The entire student population slumped to the floor, then stiffly pulled themselves to their feet and lined up meekly beside their tables.

_:-How about we get Harry to use that spell we invented for that prank in fifth year,-:_Remus suggested. _:-The one on the door that cleans people as they go through.-:_

_:-Do I even want to know what prank you pulled that involved a cleaning spell on the main doors?-: _Harry asked.

_:-One of their better ones, actually,-: _Lily said. _:-It was funny rather than humiliating. They had grown up a bit by that point.-:_

_:-It was a classic,-: _James agreed.

_:-Alright__,__-: _Harry said. _:-But I'll have to let Remus take over for a few seconds. I don't trust my own casting enough to do a spell that big without practice. Knowing my luck, I'll accidentally lop the heads off the first few students through the door.-:_

He hurried to where Professor McGonagall was standing by the line of Gryffindor students. "Do you mind if I cast a spell on the door quickly?" he asked her.

She raised her eyebrows dubiously. "What spell would this be, Professor Potter?"

"Just something to clean them up a bit."

Her eyebrows rose even higher. "Such a spell exists? Then be my guest."

Harry grinned. _:-Over to you, Moony,-: _He staggered a little as his body adjusted to him stepping back and Remus taking over the unfamiliar form.

The last time the inhabitants of Harry's head had taken over control of his body had been when he was ill after the full moon. It was a much stranger experience to be shoved to the back of his mind when he was awake and fully aware, and to feel his body walking over to the door without his aid. He watched as his own hand gripped his wand and lifted it up in front of him. From his mouth, a complicated spell was uttered and a thin light of light emerged and was traced carefully over the edge of the doorframe. The line shimmered ice-blue for a long moment, before sinking into the old stone. Then Remus stepped back and allowed Harry to take control again.

There was a long silence from everyone in the hall. Then Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said, "Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws leave first." The students began filing from the hall, with little 'eeps' of surprise and discomfort as they were magically scrubbed clean. More quietly, McGonagall said, "A word with you, Professor Potter, once you have settled your students."

Harry felt a tremor of nervousness run through him and nodded shortly before heading towards the Slytherin table.

_:-What was that about?-:_ he asked as he tried not to notice the hostile glares of his new charges.

_:-McGonagall?-: _Sirius said. _:-I don't know. I guess we'll find out.-:_

"Follow me!" Harry commanded, trying not to feel vulnerable as he turned his back to lead the Slytherins from the hall.

_:-Be calm and stern,-: _Remus told Harry as he trooped down to the dungeons. _:-Children can smell uncertainty and fear like animals,__and they take advantage of it. Don t lose your temper. Just remain calm, okay?-:_

_;-Why did I ever think teaching was a good idea?-: _Harry stopped outside the Slytherin portrait hole, took a deep, fortifying breath, and murmured the password.

_:-Because you've always had a soft spot for the underdogs of society,-: _Remus said wryly. _:-Children, Muggle-borns, werewolves, Slytherins...-:_

_:-You would be more like an underwolf, Moony,-:_ Sirius pointed out with cheerful bluntness.

Remus, who had too much experience with his partner's lack of tact, merely sighed a little and said, _:-Yes, thank you for that input, Padfoot. Most valuable in our current situation.-:_

The Slytherin students crowded at one end of the common room and eyed Harry with suspicion. The common room, like the Gryffindor one, had changed very little since Harry last saw it in his second year. As he stood with his back to the massive, elaborately-carved main fireplace, he allowed his eyes to wander as the students filed in.

He supposed the rather eerie coolness that seemed to emanate from the room had to do with the green and silver colour scheme. The large and ornate oak furniture and lack of windows did little to help with this impression. Nor did the greenish-glowing lamps that hung from the ceiling on chains and highlighted the roughly carved stone walls. Harry thought that it was unsurprising that the Slytherins tended to be such a pale bunch. It had to be unhealthy for children to grow up in such a dimly-lit environment. He decided that one of the first things he would do in his role as Head of House would be to investigate the possibility of putting in false windows like those in the Ministry of Magic.

The paintings on the walls were all landscapes – usually of cold Scottish mountains and lakes or craggy stone castles. The sole exception to these was the large picture over the fireplace behind Harry, which showed a large oak table on which lay a skull, an inkpot, quill and parchment, and a long green snake. The way the snake slithered in, out and around the skull reminded Harry disturbingly of the Dark Mark and he wondered if this picture had been Voldemort's inspiration.

"Is everyone in?" Harry asked, as the portrait swung shut. The Slytherins regarded him steadily. "Right. Now it's perfectly clear to me that most of you are less than pleased about my appointment as your Head of House."

Some rather unflattering comments were muttered at this which Harry chose to ignore.

"I'm going to be straight with you. The reason I agreed to take this job is because no one else will do it." The Slytherins gaped at him, but Harry hurried to continue before any of them could recover enough to heckle him. "It can't have escaped your notice that Slytherin House has become rather unpopular since the war. This is mostly because about ninety percent of Death Eaters originated from here. Not a brilliant reputation to be landed with this soon after the fall of Voldemort."

Harry paused and looked around at their hostile expressions. He pursed his lips and tried to think calm thoughts. "The truth is, it's going to be hard to rebuild Slytherin's reputation in the eyes of rest of the Wizarding World."

"Oh, who _cares_ what they think!" snapped a sixth year girl, a sneer fixed on her face. "Bunch of stupid Mudbloods and – " She broke off as Harry flicked a silencing charm in her direction – such a powerful one that she staggered back against the arm of a sofa.

"You will _not _use that word again. Ever." Harry kept his voice just as pleasant and calm as it had been before. He watched rather smugly as the girl's furious boyfriend tried to undo the silencing charm and failed. It was a different variation to the standard charm that Harry had discovered when researching DADA for his lessons. It resisted all normal counter-spells. He felt himself relax a little as it was the Slytherins' turn to look at him nervously. He smiled. It was not a very nice smile. He had developed it in memory of Professor Snape, using some of the older man's best examples of malicious amusement for inspiration. The students shifted uncertainly, and many of the younger ones tried to pretend they had been looking apologetic and contrite all along.

"In answer to Miss Torack's rather rudely worded question, _you _should all care what they think." Harry scrabbled around for his own knowledge of Slytherin motivation and priorities. His brain – used to the fairly straightforward process of Gryffindor thinking – felt rather like it was being twisted into a corkscrew-shape with a lemon squeezer. "What are you without your reputation? You may not like it, but the way other people view you is a large part of who you are. You will never get far in this world if you don't command the respect of its other citizens. Respect - not fear, not money, not blood status – will get you the furthest in life. You have to _earn _that respect through your actions. You can't force it or buy it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

A few of the students were eyeing him with something quite close to the respect he'd been talking about. The younger ones just looked bored. Most of the older ones still looked malicious.

"I _understand_ that you're talking out of your arse," one of the seventh years said with a lazy sneer.

Harry fought down his instinctive urge to lose his temper and snap back. Instead he flicked the silencing charm in the student's direction, gritted his teeth, and calmly said, "You will treat me with respect as well. If you do not understand a concept when I explain it, kindly raise your hand and tell me so politely. The chances are if you don't understand it, others will not either."

The boy's expression was furious and bitter, especially when a few of the other students muffled sniggers. He could voice no protest, though.

"Let me put it more simply for you," Harry said. "When you leave this school, the reputation you earn here will follow you in later life. Unfortunately for this House, through no fault of your own, your reputations were tarnished the moment the Sorting Hat called 'Slytherin'. Being in Slytherin is _not _a bad thing," he spoke loudly to cover the half-voiced protests. "It is a house with many perfectly respectable character traits and ideals. Many good and respected witches and wizards were Slytherins – our late Headmaster Snape being one of them." Harry winced inwardly at the shrieks of horror erupting in his head.

"Then why are you telling us all this?" asked a fifth year girl, eyeing his wand nervously.

Harry smiled at her. "Because most people don't see it that way. When you leave this school, you will want to get respectable careers and jobs and carve yourself a good place in society. While most of the Wizarding World looks down on you with fear and suspicion, you will not be able to gain these things. It's up to us – all of you, and me – to try and rebuild your reputation."

"But why do you _care_?" asked another boy, made brave by the fact his classmate hadn't been struck silent.

"Because I know what it feels like to be unfairly treated by society," Harry said. He paused while the Slytherins voiced their scorn to this comment. Words like 'boy-who-lived' and 'golden boy' were heard over the swell. When they ran out of steam, Harry spoke again. "Many of you here will be old enough to remember some of the articles written about me over the years. I have been accused of being insane, being in league with Voldemort, being an attention seeker, being Dark because of my ability to talk to snakes... all these things and many more. I _know _how hard it is to fight against the odds, and I like to support those I see in the same position."

"It's not the same!" someone near the back yelled.

"Yeah! You're still the Gryffindor Golden Boy!"

"Everyone loves you!"

The rest of the comments were lost as the noise level rose and all the students started yelling at once. Harry closed his eyes tiredly. He was obviously not getting through to them.

_:-Give them time, love,-: _Lily murmured. _:-They're prickly and defensive. It's not surprising. You've seen what they've put up with this year. They're not just going to let you in right away. Like them, you will have to earn your reputation.-:_

_:-I know,-: _Harry said. _:-I just wish they would all SHUT UP!-:_

His eyes flew open when the noise broke off abruptly at his silent command. For a few seconds, Harry was sure he must have accidentally cast a silencing charm on the whole lot of them. Then he realised they were staring frozen and wide-eyed over his shoulder.

_:-Oh, God,-: _he murmured to his family. _:-It's another basilisk, isn't it? I knew this peace and quiet was too good to last.-:_

_:-What peace and quiet?-: _Sirius snorted.

Slowly, Harry turned around. When he saw what was there, he let out a little squeak of surprise and staggered back a few steps.

"Graceful, Professor Potter," Snape drawled, his portrait-self leaning back against the table on which the skull, stationary and snake rested. "It's good to know some things don't change." Harry hoped the Slytherin students didn't notice the underlying sarcasm in the way he said 'professor'. As it turned out, they were too busy laughing at Harry's clumsiness, and as a result, almost leaped out of their skins in fright when Snape roared,

"_SILENCE!"_

Silence descended obediently over the common room like a well-trained thermal blanket. Harry – whose nerves and muscles had been battered into obedience by this man from a young age – couldn't have moved if a basilisk really was after him.

"Decades!" Snape snapped, making many students jump. "Decades, I spent fighting to protect this world and the reputation of this House. And here you all are – supposedly _noble_ Slytherins – doing your best to alienate the only person who has the power to drag our name out of the mud that the Dark Lord trod us into." His black eyes swept over the room, a sneer lounging easily on his face, having made its home there long ago. "Obviously Slytherin has become degraded in the years since the war if all of you lack such basic survival instinct that you do not take advantage of a useful situation when it prevents itself."

"But sir!" one brave (or possibly suicidal) seventh year complained. "He's a Gryffindor!"

The look Snape shot him had him shutting up more effectively than Harry's silencing charm. "Any _real _Slytherin would consider the fact that this is an advantage," he snapped. He turned and looked down at Harry who had to fight very hard against his instinct to back away. _It's a portrait, _he told himself. _It's a portrait, it's a portrait..._

He raised his chin with his best defiant expression and met Snape's eyes. To his surprise, underneath the usual contempt and arrogance, he caught an almost questioning look, as though Snape were asking his permission for something. Harry had no idea what he was asking, but since he had run out of ideas, he guessed he could let Snape have a go. He nodded minutely and Snape smirked. Harry's unpleasant smile had nothing on this well-crafted expression of vicious bad-humour.

"Besides," Snape continued, as though their brief interaction had never occurred, "Professor Potter here is more a Slytherin than he would have us believe."

_:-Oh, bugger,-:_ Harry whimpered mentally, as he suddenly realised just what he had given Snape permission to reveal. He had been hoping to save this information until people had become a little more acclimatized to his position of Slytherin Head of House.

The sceptical eyes of the Slytherin students were fixed upon him as Snape continued. "There is not a lot to do as a portrait in the Headmistress's office," His distinctive voice coiled round the words like oiled silk. "Many of the previous Heads of this school were bumbling fools with no more sense that a damp teabag in a swamp. I have found that often, the most sensible conversation I can have is with a hat. The Sorting Hat to be exact. People underestimate the power that information about a person can have, and this magically animate accessory has seen into the minds, hearts, and secret desires of practically every witch and wizard in the British isles. And it never forgets anything."

The Slytherins now had their eyes fixed on Snape in fascination. The promise of power was a great motivator when talking to members of this House, and Snape, Harry realised, was using this to his advantage in a most sneaky and underhand manner.

"The Sorting Hat told me something very interesting about Professor Potter." Snape looked at Harry through cold, black eyes. "It told me that it wanted to sort him into Slytherin in the first year, but that Professor Potter asked to be in a different House."

There was immediate uproar in the Slytherin common room. It was all Harry could do not to back away from the angry, bewildered, triumphant yells.

"SILENCE!" Snape roared for a second time, and once again the volume level dropped to quiet mutters.

"He's a traitor, then?" the foolhardy seventh year asked contemptuously. "Masquerading as something he is not?"

There were angry mutters of agreement.

_:-Oh, dear,-: _Lily said. _:-This is not the reaction we'd been hoping for.-:_

_:-Don't worry,-: _Remus assured her. _:-Look at Snape. He doesn't look worried.-:_

"On the contrary, Mr Nenmock," Snape said, looking down his long nose at the boy, "it is our choices more than anything else that make us who we are. In his second year, Professor Potter pulled Gryffindor's sword from the hat and slew a basilisk with it – a basilisk, I may add, that was being controlled by a manifestation of the Dark Lord. That was the kind of recklessly brave and self-sacrificing act that can only be carried out by a Gryffindor."

Now, the Slytherins looked confused. "So the Sorting Hat was wrong?" someone asked.

"Not wrong." To everyone's surprise, including his own, it was Harry who spoke. He very deliberately _didn't _flinch when all eyes turned to him. "The Sorting Hat said to me 'You would do well in Slytherin'. It repeated it again after I pulled the sword out. 'You would have done well in Slytherin'." Harry rubbed a hand over his face as he ordered his thoughts. "Like Professor Snape said, it is our choices that make us who we are – that was one of Dumbledore's most important lessons. Sometimes I believe that the division of the Houses creates more prejudice than is necessary. It is very possible to be a little bit Gryffindor, a little bit Slytherin – a little bit of all the Houses."

He looked round at the young faces turned towards him attentively.

"Professor Granger was one of my closest friends in school. A Gryffindor. And yet, she could easily out-think and outperform any Ravenclaw. Neville Longbottom – a very well-known war hero – a was also in Gryffindor, but his loyalty was as strong as any Hufflepuff's. In the same way, Cedric Diggory – the Triwizard Champion of Hogwarts with me when the competition was held in my fourth year – was one of the bravest people I ever met. And he was a Hufflepuff."

Harry turned and looked up at the painting over the fire. Snape scowled at him warningly as he realised Harry had turned all attention to him. "And Professor Snape – who I'm sure you will all agree was an archetypal Slytherin?" Nods from the students. "He was _the _bravest man I have _ever_ met. Thick-skinned, cunning, cutting, scary – yes. A Slytherin to his bones. But his courage and bravery in the face of all odds would have made any Gryffindor proud."

"Professor Potter, kindly desist," Snape said curtly. "I do believe you have made your point."

Harry grinned at him cheekily, daring him to contradict his words in front of the students. Dislike radiated like heat from Snape's bat-like figure.

"What we have to do now," Harry said, turning back to the students, "is encourage the world to see us all as _people_, rather than walking representations of our House's traits. If you work together with me, I am sure we can make Slytherin proud."

There was silence following this statement, and Harry decided to leave it there. He had given the students a lot to chew over, and he didn't want to overload them. "Very well. I am going to leave now. Believe me when I say there will be serious consequences to anyone breaking the rules of your punishment and leaving the common room at any point tonight."

"I would take his words seriously," Snape added. "This is the man who defeated the most powerful Dark Lord of the last century with a disarming spell. A word, Professor Potter?"

Harry glanced up at the portrait. "Er... I need to speak to Headmistress McGonagall first," he said. "But if you wait in one of the paintings in my rooms, I'll speak with you when I return."

Snape gave a curt nod and disappeared into the frame of the painting. Harry groaned inwardly. _:-Am I never rid of that man?-:_

_:-I can't believe you're being NICE to him!-:_ Sirius fumed, breaking free of the hold Remus had kept on him over the course of the meeting.

_:-It's Snivellus!-: _James agreed, as Lily released him from a similar hold.

_:-He is – was – a good man,-: _Harry said as he made his way towards McGonagall's office. _:-Maybe not a very nice or likable one, but innately, a good one. He saved my life more times than I can remember.-:_

He reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's office and muttered the password. The doorway opened, and Harry stepped onto the moving staircase.

"Professor Potter," McGonagall said looking up from her paperwork. "I trust the Slytherins are settled?"

Harry glanced up at the wall of portraits behind her and noticed an empty frame in a shadowy corner that he hadn't seen the last time he was there. It was a little smaller than the others – perhaps because Snape had not been headmaster for very long. "You sent him down to help, didn't you?" he accused. "I was managing okay on my own, you know."

Professor McGonagall's expression was bland. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Now perhaps we can discuss the matter of that cleaning charm you cast on the door of the main hall?"

"Oh yes." Harry screwed up his face in apology. "I forgot about that. I'll remove it on the way back to my rooms."

"That's not quite what I meant, Mr. Potter. I dare say there are a few students in this school that could do with a little extra help in the hygiene department for a couple more days. No - what I _meant _was that the spell you used is not a common one. In fact," she looked at him significantly, "I have only ever seen it used once before."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and said nothing, shushing Remus's apologies in his head.

"It was in your parents' fifth year, I think you'll find. And if memory serves me correctly, once investigated, it turned out that the spell was altered and developed by a certain group of mischief makers as part of an elaborate prank."

"You're right," Harry said, his heart hammering in his chest. "Remus taught it to me."

"Hm..." Professor McGonagall pressed the tips of her fingers together and tapped her pursed lips. "I remember being gobsmacked by the complexity of the spell. That mere fifth years could have come up with such a thing!" She shook her head.

"It was a very complicated charm. It relied heavily on will power, tone of voice, complicated wand movements, specific intonations...very, very difficult to learn and replicate. In fact, I believe the only person who had the patience or inclination to undertake the task was Mr. Lupin. Although your father and godfather were incredibly brilliant and powerful wizards in their own right, neither of them had the capacity for complexity and intricacy that Mr. Lupin had. Although he wasn't quite as powerful as the two of them, he was near to it, and the way he used his magic enhanced it to such a degree that he was easily able to outstrip them is certain areas."

_:-Like drinking alcohol through a straw,-: _Sirius volunteered. _:-It gets you drunker a lot quicker and more effectively than sipping it from the glass, because it's more focussed.-:_

When the expectant silence became too much, Harry cleared his throat and repeated, "Remus taught it to me."

"Well." Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair, her face unreadable. "That's everything then."

Harry nodded and turned towards the door. "Oh, and Harry?"

He turned warily.

"I don't know what you're up to, or what all this means, but I must ask you to be careful. Those who dabble in magic they are unable to control often meet sticky ends. I'm sure you recall the fate of Luna Lovegood's mother?"

A great experimenter who ended up killing herself with one of her own inventions, Harry remembered. He nodded again, and McGonagall's face softened. "That will be all. Goodnight."

"Night," Harry murmured and left the room.

As he headed back to his rooms, all Harry wanted to do was sleep. His head ached, his eyes drooped, his head was churning as it tried to process everything that had happened that evening – and he _still _had to deal with bloody _Snape _– a man who found it physically impossible to pronounce Harry's name without layering it in derisive sarcasm first.

Harry entered his living room to find Snape seated very stiffly on the low wall surrounding a quaint little Devonshire cottage in one of Harry's paintings.

"Your taste in art work is even more nauseating that your taste in friends, Potter," he said by way of greeting. Harry guessed he couldn't bring himself to use the title 'Professor' to address him unless he was forced to.

"I like my paintings," Harry said defensively, even as Remus and Lily hurried to restrain their partners from shoving Harry aside and taking control of his body to dish out revenge for the comment. Harry grimaced as his headache increased. He wasn't sure how much longer he could cope with this many people in his head without going insane. "They're... friendly."

Snape snorted, but didn't comment further. Harry stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, hating how he felt so out of place and uncomfortable in his own place. Eventually he cleared his throat. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Snape studied him with a rather clinical gaze – something that Harry was unused to from the man who usually regarded him with loathing and scorn.

"You look like hell," he said, then sat back smugly, with an air of someone after a job well done.

Harry scrubbed tiredly at his forehead, feeling the slightly raised scar under him palm. "Well. Thanks for that. Most helpful and enlightening. May I go to sleep now?"

"I'm not the only one who's noticed it, Potter. Minvera has – all the staff have, in fact. They noticed how ill you were a short while ago as well, though luckily for you, none of them noticed that it fell over the full moon."

Harry froze, his exhaustion slipping away as shock and adrenaline washed through him. "What?"

"It's perfectly obvious – especially to a portrait who has nothing better to do that observe the world and listen to the gossip of other paintings. The illness, the time spent in the hospital wing – I'm guessing Poppy knows -, the hours spent researching with your friends in the restricted section of the library."

Harry's knees felt weak and he stumbled over to an arm chair, falling into it ungracefully. The stunned silence in his mind only seemed to increase his headache.

"When did it happen?" Snape asked, his voice silkily smug. "Who bit you? Your darling Professor Lupin before he died?"

And at that, Harry felt his entire upper body droop forward in relief. Snape thought he was a werewolf. He could deal with that. Snape didn't know anything important. He didn't know about Harry's family.

"Please don't tell anyone," Harry mumbled without lifting his head.

"I assume you've taken proper precautions for the safety of staff and students?" Snape said shortly.

"Yes," Harry said to his knees.

"Then, since you are the only hope for my Slytherins at this point in time, I will keep this knowledge to myself. Rest assured that if I see anything that might compromise the safety of those in this school, I will not hesitate to speak."

Harry gave a laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. "Of course, sir."

There was nothing more said for so long that Harry thought Snape must have left. But when he raised his head, he saw that Snape was still sitting there, black and bat-like against the pastel-coloured backdrop of the painting. The man was studying him with the same clinical expression as he had earlier. Then he stood up with a flurry of black robes.

"I make no secret of the fact that I do not like you, Mr. Potter," he said shortly. "But I don't believe anyone deserves to suffer the life you have been thrust into." He looked as though he were about to say more, but then his face twisted and he swept from the painting without another word.

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" 'A Muggle family in Warwickshire were attacked by three wizards in Black cloaks. The family was related to Bethan Roberts, a Muggle-born witch who graduated from Hogwarts six years ago and now works as an Auror at the Ministry of Magic. A new version of the Dark Mark was left over the place of residence. It resembles the mark of He Who Must Not Be Named, with the difference that it appears to be a hyena, rather than a snake, emerging from the skull's jaws. Witnesses on the scene say that the image was accompanied by the chilling sound of hyena laughter...' "

Hermione lowered the paper and looked at Harry with worry. "This means Crouch has at least two followers, right? This isn't just a prisoner on the run. This is a crazed man out for revenge."

Harry sighed. "We knew that already. We know from fourth year that Crouch is insanely loyal to Voldemort. If he could plot and scheme for that many years, I don't see any reason why he would have stopped now." He stirred his porridge half-heartedly as he stared down at the students eating breakfast below them. "I had thought all this had stopped, Hermione. I thought I wouldn't have to fight anymore."

"You don't," she said, rolling up the paper firmly. "This isn't your fight. It's the Ministry's. And with Shacklebolt in charge, they're more than capable of dealing with it. You, Harry Potter, need to concentrate on teaching, the Slytherins, and project you-know-what."

"All I can say is that at least it's nearly Christmas. As soon as we're on holiday, we'll have more time to look."

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There may not have been that much time until the school broke up for the Christmas holidays, but it dragged by – especially since two full moons managed to slot themselves into the six weeks remaining. Harry could only be glad that there wouldn't be one falling over Christmas. They weren't getting any easier.

Nothing more of interest was found in the library, and there were no more conversations with Snape's portrait – though Harry did catch him glowering at him a few times from various portraits around the school. There were two more attacks on families connected to people who actively fought against Voldemort, and the MLE were no closer to finding either the attackers or Crouch. Sending Dementors after Crouch only resulted in a trail of scattered black rags and exploded grey goo, which was all that was left of them once the convict had come into contact with them.

"Good," was Hermione's comment on reading that. "They are vile creatures. The Ministry should never have continued to use them to guard the prison. They were loyal to _Voldemort_ for heaven's sake. I had thought better of Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Does this mean you're joining Crouch's cause?" Ron asked, looking at her with wry amusement. "Starting up a fanclub of cheerleaders? You know: '_Crouch, Crouch, he knows no fear, he sticks his wand up Dementor rear, He rids us of these vile things, And they go POP as his fanclub sings: Crouch, Crouch he has no fear, he sticks...'_ ...Mmmmf...ouch'Ermione!"

Harry was glad none of Hermione's students heard her reply. It would have completely shattered the image of prim, stern Transfiguration teacher she had been cultivating.


	9. Voices from the Walls of Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine**

**Thanks for all the reviews! A new chapter for you all. Mx**

**Voices from the Walls of Hogwarts**

It was a few days before school broke up for Christmas. Harry was sitting at the desk in his living room, attempting to do the last of his marking before the end of term so he could spend the holidays searching for ways to help his family gain bodies so they would stop cluttering up his head. This, he thought morosely, had to be the only time in human history that anyone had that particular task on their 'Things to do at Christmas' list.

Still, it would be a relief to have his mind to himself again. James and Sirius had developed and irritating habit of playing mix and match with his memories when they were bored. It was only after he had received some very odd looks from fellow teachers in the staffroom that he realised (already halfway through recounting the events of his second year after much begging from the staff), that he had probably never battled a basilisk that turned into a snitch, which he then swallowed and regurgitated in the form of a pink pygmy puff which Ginny named Boris.

As a result, he had to rerun memories in his head in order to discern whether they really happened, or if they were simply too ridiculous to be true. The downside of this method was that most of the events in his life _were_ too ridiculous to be true. At one point he had firmly stated that there was no way he would have been thick enough to follow a stampede of terrified spiders into the Forbidden Forest on Hagrid's orders, only to escape from a herd of rampaging Acromantulas in a flying Ford Anglia. This was obviously too much for Lily and Remus, who took their partners in hand and forced them to reassemble Harry's memories in the correct order again.

Harry sighed and chewed on his quill, realising with resignation that if he couldn't get his wandering mind under some kind of control, he'd never finish his marking in time. He glanced over to the other two occupants of the room.

Alex and Daniel sat on the brightly striped hearth rug in front of the fire playing chess – or at least they had been playing chess until Daniel had glanced up as though someone had called his name. Now Alex sat patiently on one side of the board, picking a thread in the rug as he watched his friend - who appeared to be having an intense, if silent, conversation with the stone wall.

"That must get frustrating," Harry observed, laying down his quill and looking at the gangly little Gryffindor sympathetically.

Alex shrugged and looked at Daniel with a fondly exasperated expression. "I'm used to it now. The other day he made us late for Herbology because he stopped for a chat with the Whomping Willow. He said it wanted to tell him about a car, and a wolf, and a dog who turned into a skeleton and then broke a boy's leg."

Harry felt a shiver run up his spine. It was at times like this that Daniel went from being an oddly eccentric little boy to something much more real and frightening. "Why did it tell him that?" he asked, aware that his voice was a little hoarse.

Alex looked embarrassed. "Well, he said he'd asked Hogwarts to tell him about you, sir. And it said it could tell him lots of stories, and so could the Whomping Willow. It said the Willow was part of your family's..." he screwed up his face. "Hurt-idge."

_:-Heritage,-: _Remus put in, in his patient-professor voice.

Harry looked at Daniel, whose large black eyes were focused with peculiar intensity at the wall. "Yes," Harry said to Alex. "It is."

Daniel looked up then, giving his head a little shake and running a hand through his springy strawberry-blonde curls.

"Alright, mate?" Alex asked, reaching over the chess board to give Daniel a friendly nudge.

Daniel's mouth pulled itself into a small but fairly disturbing half-smile as he nudged Alex back. "Time?" he asked, as always using the least amount of words required for the question.

Harry glanced down at the little clock on his desk and sighed as he thought about how much marking he still had to do. "Late, lads. Time for you to go off to bed so you don't get caught up after curfew."

With pre-adolescent reluctance, they began to gather their belongings together, packing up the chess pieces and scooping up roughly scrawled homework parchment and quills. Harry bent his head over his marking again, but looked up when he realised they were hovering beside him uncertainly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking at their upturned faces in concern.

"We won't be here again before Christmas, probably," Alex said. "So we wanted to give you your present now."

"My present?" Harry sat back in surprise. "You didn't have to get me a present, lads. I'm afraid I didn't get you one."

Alex shook his head. "No, you didn't need to. We wanted to get you one to say thanks for letting us come here. It would have been really hard for us to stay friends if you hadn't."

Harry smiled at them, feeling his heart clench a little in his chest. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

Daniel withdrew a clumsily wrapped present from behind his back and presented it to Harry in solemn silence.

"Thank you. Shall I open it now or save it for Christmas?"

"Open it now!" Alex said, his eyes alight.

Harry carefully unwrapped the present and a brightly decorated red and green box fell into his lap. He picked it up and opened it. Inside were a dozen buzzing golden snitches. For a moment, Harry thought they were real and had an awful swooping sensation when he thought about how much a dozen snitches would cost two little boys. Then Alex reached out, grabbed one, and held it up.

"Chocolate snitch decorations. For your Christmas tree. Everyone knows you were the best Seeker this school's ever had."

"They're brilliant!" Harry said, picking up one of the buzzing foil-wrapped chocolates. "Thank you!"

Both faces broke into smiles. It was the most open expression Harry had ever seen on Daniel's. Then Alex elbowed the smaller boy in the ribs and hissed, "Tell him!"

"Tell me what?" Harry asked.

"Something Hogwarts said to him," Alex said. "A message for you."

Harry looked at the child curiously. "What is it?"

Daniel pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. "You're looking for a book."

"A book?" Harry frowned.

"Yes. Hogwarts said to tell you that _he _had it when he was here."

"Who?"

Daniel looked rather put out at having to use so many words to explain himself. "The boy who made a diary."

Harry felt a sick swooping in his stomach. "Tom Riddle?"

Daniel touched the wall by his hand for a few seconds, then nodded. "He had the book you are looking for. But he took it with him when he left."

Harry sat still, his heart hammering for a long moments as his family chattered excitedly in his head. "What book, Daniel?"

The boy regarded him steadily without answering.

"_Sacrum Obitus?_" Harry persisted.

"A cloak, a wand, a stone, she said," Daniel answered.

"Oh my God," Harry murmured, reeling with the discovery.

_:-This kid is ultra creepy,-: _Sirius commented. ­_:-In a disturbingly cute sort of way.-:_

"Does that help?" Alex asked, his face anxious.

"Yes," Harry said, forcing his face back into a reassuring smile. "Thank you. And I think it's time the two if you were off to bed, now. Have a good Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Professor," Alex chirped, as Daniel nodded at Harry and dragged his gangly friend from the room.

Harry sat unmoving at his desk for a long time after they left.

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It was nice to return home after so many months at Hogwarts. Oddly, 12 Grimmauld Place _did_ feel like home now – something he would never have dreamed of happening in those traumatic few years when it had been Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry and Kreacher had worked hard to turn the house from 'Dark Mausoleum-Type Tribute to the Evil and Moste Twisted Black Family' into 'Somewhere Harry Can Just Be Harry'. He hadn't realised until they had actually embarked on the project that 'Just Being Harry' would take up so much time and money, or cause so many accidents involving Dark objects, boils, tentacles and three days attached to the ceiling of Orion Black's study.

He couldn't have done it without Kreacher, who had been happy to go along with the plan as long as Harry promised to keep some of the less homicidal furniture and the Black family tree tapestry in the living room. The ugly little house elf had spent the months that Harry was at Hogwarts putting the finishing touches to the interior decorating.

When Harry floo'd into Grimmauld Place on the last day of term, he felt, for the first time in his entire life, that he was coming home. Aside from Hogwarts, he had never felt as though he belonged anywhere, and as he stepped out of the kitchen fireplace he felt a rush of joy as he spotted Kreacher fussing over bubbling pans on the stove, the warm scent of sausage stew filling the room.

The kitchen was clean and comfortable. The grey flagstones were scrubbed and decorated with a large burgundy and brown rug, on which the old, solid oak table stood – a remnant from the days of the Order.

The wooden kitchen cabinets were polished to a mahogany shine, and the granite work surfaces were rubbed smooth with scrubbing. An enlarged and framed photograph hung above the fireplace, depicting Padfoot chasing pigeons in the park while raggedly-dressed Remus Lupin made half-hearted efforts to get him under control, even as he fought off laughter. It had been one of the very few times that Sirius had been allowed out of the house in Harry's fifth year, and it was the happiest that Harry had ever seen either of them. He now knew what that extra glow of delight and warmth between the two men had really meant.

_:-I never thought I'd feel anything but loathing for this house,-: _Sirius said, his voice quiet and _old_ in Harry's mind. _:-But as usual, Harry Potter has done the impossible. You've really turned it into a home,-:_

Harry felt the last of the strain he'd been carrying lift from his shoulders at the words. _:-I did it because I didn't want this place to always be an ugly reminder. I wanted to change it to something good – just to prove I could. Just to prove that it wouldn't get the better of me.-:_

_:-We know, love,-:_ Lily's voice was gentle. _:-We were here for quite a while before you could talk to us.-:_

_:-I like the picture,-: _James added_. :-Shows Padfoot's true colours – a chronic pigeon fancier. Been a bit too long since you'd chased birds, had it?-:_ This last was added teasingly to the other Animagus.

_:-Nope,-: _Sirius said breezily. _:-I'm only ever after Moony's tail.-:_

_:-__Nice,-:_said James, doing the mental equivalent of wrinkling his nose.

"Is master not happy with Kreacher's work in the kitchen?"

Harry jumped as the anxious voice broke through his mental conversation. "No!" He crouched down beside the ugly little house elf and reached out to pat the bony shoulder. "No, I love it! Really, Kreacher. I was just amazed at how brilliant it all looks. I was taking it in."

Kreacher relaxed, and his mouth twisted into a smile that looked at loss as to what it was doing on such an unfamiliar face. "Master is happy with Kreacher?"

"Yes. Very, very happy. And dinner smells good as well."

Kreacher swelled up with pride as he scuttled over to stir the stew.

"Is there enough for three?" Harry asked. "Only, I invited my friends over."

"Kreacher can make enough for three," the house elf assured him. "Kreacher is liking master's friends."

"Good. Thanks." Harry sat down at the table and watched fondly as Kreacher bustled round the kitchen.

_:-I think you should tell him about us,-: _Lily said. _:-He's going to overhear things when Ron and Hermione are here. And he might be useful as well. House elves are quite powerful in their own right.-:_

_:-Do we have to?-: _Sirius whined. _:-He hates me!-:_

_:-Only because you always treated him so badly.-: _Remus's voice was comforting. _:-If you treat him well, I bet he'd be delighted to be helping a genuine Black.-:_

_:-I think it's a good idea,-: _Harry agreed. _:-He's been useful before – I made him follow Malfoy around in sixth year.-:_

"Kreacher?" he said out loud.

Kreacher hurried over to where he was sitting. "Yes, master?"

"Um...you've seen lots of strange magic, right? I bet that being part of the Black family, you've seen a lot of things that aren't entirely legal or normal."

Kreacher stared up at him, twisting gnarled fingers in his tea towel and looking rather lost. "Yeees," he said slowly. "Is master referring to Kreacher's last trip with Master Regulus?"

Harry winced, knowing it was a tough subject for the house elf. "Yes. Things like that. You're good at keeping them secret, though, right? You would never tell anyone?"

"No, master!" Kreacher looked insulted that he had even brought it up. "Kreacher never tells his master's secrets!" He broke off and looked at Harry, an expression of realisation dawning on his ugly little face. "Does master have something he wishes Kreacher to keep a secret?"

"Yes," Harry said with relief. "Yes, I do. Do you promise to keep it a secret?"

"Yes, master. Kreacher will keep Harry Potter's secrets always."

"Okay." Harry paused for a minute, thinking about how to phrase it. Eventually he decided on the direct approach. "Well, I've got my mother, my father, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin living body-less in my head."

There was a long pause and Kreacher blinked once. Then he straightened up and gave a brisk nod. "Okay, master."

"Okay?" Harry stared at him. "Just like that?"

"Kreacher thinks master is looking for a way to get his family bodies."

Harry slumped back in his chair. "Well...yes, I am."

"Even Sirius Black?" Kreacher looked thoroughly depressed by the thought.

"Yes," Harry told him. "But he promises to be nicer to you. He is very grateful that you have been looking after me so well. And he loves what we've done with the house." Harry ignored the muttering in the back of his head.

"Sirius Black _would_," Kreacher sneered. "He never liked the Mistress's taste in decor. He was completely lacking in taste, unlike Master Regulus."

"To be honest, I can't say I was overly fond of her taste in decor either," Harry said.

Kreacher's answer was interrupted by the flaring of the floo in the kitchen fireplace. Harry smiled fondly as Hermione and Ron emerged, already bickering.

"...Just saying you can't just rush in, Ron! We need to make a comprehensive strategy."

"That'll take _weeks_! I don't see why we can't just start looking straight away. We can make up a strategy as we go along."

"That just defeats the whole _point _of a strategy. Don't you think, Harry?"

"I have no idea what you're arguing about," Harry said, raising his hands in a peace-making gesture. "Don't drag me into it. Sausage stew?"

"We're talking about how we're going to go about doing our research and looking for the book this holiday," Hermione told him, smiling at Kreacher and sitting down at the table. Kreacher eyed her warily for a few seconds. She had a habit of inflicting unexpected gifts on him, which he had never grown used to. When it appeared that she was suitably distracted, he levitated the pot of stew over to the table.

"Speaking of _Sacrum Obitus_," Harry said, "I have something to tell you. A message from Hogwarts."

"Who at Hogwarts?" Ron asked, spooning vast amounts of stew onto his plate.

"No," Harry said. "Hogwarts herself."

"What?" Hermione eyed him with a worried expression. "Are you hearing voices in the walls again? You remember what happened the last time you heard voices in the walls, don't you?"

"Yeah, mate," put in Ron. "Welcome from the friendly neighbourhood Basilisk and all that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, it's not like that." He told them about Alex and Daniel and the message that Daniel had given him. At the end of it, Hermione and Ron were eyeing him uncertainly.

"Are you sure this kid's not just insane?" Ron asked. "He does sound distressingly like Luna."

"He's not like Luna," Harry said. He dished himself a second helping of stew and salad. "He's _more_ than that. I can relate to him. And anyway," he shrugged and waved his spoon pointedly at the three of them. "None of us have any better ideas. It makes sense that Tom Riddle had the book. It was last recorded as being in the Gaunt family, and we know he went to their home to kill Morphin. He probably found it there."

"Okay," said Hermione, reaching down to take a notebook and quill out of her handbag and scribbling down the new information. "Assuming you're right and Tom Riddle had it at school. Well, a lot has happened since then. We have no idea where Voldemort would have put it."

They ate in silence for a while, contemplating the problem.

"It's quite scary," Ron commented after a while. "You know – the thought that Voldemort had access to that kind of information. It's a good thing he probably had no idea where any of the Deathly Hallows were. I think he would have quite fancied taking up the title 'Master of Death'."

"I wonder," Harry said slowly, "if that potion he used to get himself a body in our fourth year was adapted from something in that book. I mean, he didn't have access to the Hallows, but he _did_ have access to the brains and inventiveness of some very powerful wizards and witches. If they had altered part of the instructions in there..." he shrugged, feeling rather sick at the thought of it.

_:-You're right, Harry,-: _Remus put in, his voice thoughtful. _:-And that would mean he still had the book after his second rising.-:_

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement when Harry repeated this for them.

_:-So the question is,-:_ said Sirius_, :-Where did old Voldie keep all his most precious possessions?-:_

Harry gasped as everything fell into place in his head with a clunk. "Lucius!" he said, at the exact same time as Hermione said, "Bellatrix!"

"What?" Asked the other five participants of the conversation, inside, and outside Harry's head.

"Don't you see?" said Hermione, bouncing with excitement. "We know _exactly _where he kept his precious possessions! He gave them to his most trusted followers to look after. He gave his first Horcrux – the diary – to Lucius Malfoy. And he gave the sword of Gryffindor to Bellatrix to put in her bank vault."

Kreacher hesitated in the act of clearing away their plates. "May Kreacher speak, master?" he asked Harry.

"Of course, Kreacher."

"When master had Kreacher follow the Malfoy boy around, Kreacher saw many things. One of these things was that the Dark Lord was not happy with the Malfoy boy's father. He felt that the man had betrayed him. He did not trust him."

"Because of the diary," Harry said. "And the fact he failed to retrieve the prophecy intact."

_:-Which means,-:_ said Lily, _:-That we're left with people he DID trust to remain loyal to him.-:_

"Who could he count on, then?" Harry asked. "To remain loyal to him?"

"Barty Crouch," Ron said gloomily. "Though he was apparently soul-sucked since fourth year, so maybe not him."

_:-Which leaves us with my delightful cousin,-: _said Sirius. _:-I reckon she might actually have been in love with him – or as close as her warped and twisted mind could get.-:_

"Bellatrix," Hermione said, obviously coming to the same conclusion.

"The question is," Harry said, standing up and heading to the living room followed by his friends, "what happened to all the stuff in her bank vault after Ron's Mum got rid of her in a spectacular display of maternal rage?"

He stopped in front of the Black Family Tapestry. "Who would have inherited all her stuff?"

"Not her husband," said Hermione. "I can't remember if he's dead or in Azkaban, but either way, no inheritance."

Harry followed the threads leading away from Bellatrix's name with his finger. "Her sisters then?" he asked quietly. "Narcissa was never convicted of anything. She didn't actually have the Dark Mark, and she helped me in the final battle, even though she originally turned up with _him_. Or perhaps Andromeda?"

"Looks like we'll be dropping in on your godson, mate," Ron said, grinning.

Harry smiled back. "Good. I wanted to see him in the next week anyway. I haven't seen him since summer. And I bet Moony would like to as well."

_:-Oh, yes,-:_ Remus whispered, his voice reverent. _:-Could we?-:_

_:-I'd like to see him as well,-: _Sirius said, sounding unusually solemn. _:-Moony's baby – who would have thought it would be you, Remus, who had the only other Marauder baby?-:_

"That's settled then," Hermione said. "Tomorrow we visit the Tonks's. We'll go from there."


	10. Prison Break A Godfather's Legacy

**Disclaimer: As ever, the world of Harry Potter and its inhabitants belong to JK Rowling. **

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait. Real life intrudes, unfortunately. Many thanks to my beta, XxTheGreyLadyxX.**

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**Prison Breaks – A Godfather's Legacy**

"Remus, you really should have mentioned it before," Harry said as he climbed off the Knight Bus on rather wobbly legs (no matter how often he rode it, his knees and stomach always rebelled).

Harry hadn't really considered before how much Remus must have been longing for contact with his son. It was stupid, but Harry had been dealing with so many other things, it just hadn't crossed his mind.

Remus had been buzzing with nervous excitement ever since they planned to go and visit the Tonks's. It had created for Harry the rather distressing impression of having a bee fly into his head through his ear and then proceed to batter itself against the inside of his skull in an effort to escape again.

Although the Marauders had lived in Harry's head for a full year following the war without his knowledge, they had been shut off in a distant place at the back of his mind. Now that they had been freed, Remus would be able to effectively _hold_ his son through Harry once again, rather than merely watching him through the filmy gauze separating the Marauders from the living world.

_:-I didn't want to be a bother,-: _Remus said, and Harry felt him make a concerted effort to calm down as he headed up the path to the Tonks's front door. _:-It's enough that you're giving up your privacy and allowing us to squat in your head. It wouldn't be right to ask any more of you.-:_

_:-Of course it would!-; _Harry protested. _:-I'm only one person. I have so much to think about I sometimes miss important things. Not only should I have made sure you got to see Teddy, but __**I**__ am his godfather and I should have made sure that I saw him more often.-:_

_:-It's not your fault, Harry,-: _Sirius put in. _:-It's hard being a godfather. Especially under extenuating circumstances. Believe me, I know. And don't worry about Moony. That's just Remus being Remus – eh, love? You say to him, 'Well, if you didn't want us to tie Snivellus to the Hogwarts flagpole dressed in women's underwear and wearing a sign saying 'feel free to laugh at me, I'm God's idea of a joke', you should have said something.__' __ And he says 'I didn't want to be a bother. I thought I'd just mope around and hope you'd notice instead.'-:_

_:-Consider yourself lucky you don't have a pair of testicles right now, Padfoot,-: _Remus said mildly. _:-I'm feeling the irresistible urge to neuter a certain mutt.-:_

_:-You wouldn't,-: _Sirius said cheerfully. _:-You'd lose out as much as me.-:_

_:-Ew,-: _the Potter family chorused in unison.

_:-A little too much information on the sex lives of my father figures, thank you,-: _Harry added.

"Harry!" The door to the Tonks's house was flung open before he even had a chance to knock and Andromeda held out her arms to embrace him, her face lit up in welcome. It was still rather disconcerting to see that expression on the familiar heavy-lidded, aristocratic face that Harry had associated only with Bellatrix for so many years. It took a conscious mental shift to convince his instincts that this wasn't someone who came under the heading 'Curse First and Ask Questions Later if There Are Any Intelligible Bits Left'.

"Hey, Andromeda. It's good to see you. How's Teddy?"

"Come inside – here, let me take you coat. Teddy's well. Toddling around chatting away. He's learned a lot of words since you last saw him over summer. He's been asking for you."

Harry felt a flash of guilt. "I should have been in contact more," he said apologetically. "Things just got on top of me."

"Harry," Andromeda put a hand on his arm, stopping him in the doorway of the kitchen. "You're not even twenty yet. You've had a rough life, and you're putting it all together right now. Coupled with the worry of Crouch's escape from Azkaban...well, Teddy and I are just glad you were able to make time to come and see us this Christmas."

Harry gave her what he hoped wasn't too much of a watery smile.

"Now," she said, giving him a gentle push towards the kitchen table. "Teddy's having his afternoon nap right now. Why don't you sit there while I make us a cup of tea?"

Harry moved to sit at one of the kitchen chairs, watching as Andromeda filled the kettle with water. She looked so much more older and more drawn since the deaths of her daughter and her husband. "Are you really alright?" Harry asked. "It must be hard looking after Teddy on your own. I should be around more, no matter what you say. He's my responsibility as well."

Andromeda glanced at him over her shoulder. "We're really perfectly fine, Harry. I have friends who help me out, and even a few of Ted's old work mates come and check on my from time to time. Rodrey Ogburn was here last night, actually – brilliant old man. He was Ted's mentor when he first started at the Ministry. Retired now, of course, but they've asked him to come in and work for a bit anyway." She shook her head grimly. "They need every helping hand they can get right now. These attacks are getting serious. The Ministry is desperate to prevent things from going as far as they did with Voldemort. Did you hear that two more Muggleborn families were attacked in Yorkshire last night? Blood boiling curse. An awful way to die. Both families were related to wizards who work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – the ones who dealt with the Death Easter cases."

Harry frowned, tendrils of worry tangling and clenching in his stomach, and Andromeda reached out to squeeze his hand.

"Listen, this isn't your fight anymore, Harry. Don't think about it now. How about asking me your urgent question?" Andromeda smiled, and Harry caught a glimpse of the beautiful women she had been before grief and age had ravaged her face. It was a rare sight since her family's deaths. "I must say, I've been dying to hear what all this secrecy is about."

Harry shook his head and ran a hand through his hair as he thought of how best to phrase that he had to say.

"Your father used to do that," Andromeda commented, pouring boiling water into a rather gothic black teapot. Harry wondered if it was a Black family heirloom. Did she inherit it from Bellatrix? "It drove your mother crazy. She used to say his hair was bad enough without him deliberately messing it up."

"Yeah. It's a stupid habit. Picked it up from a right idiot."

_:-Hey!-:_

Andromeda laughed and arranged the tea things on the table before moving to sit opposite Harry. "So?"

"Um...I wish I didn't have to ask you this, but it's rather important." Harry watched as Andromeda poured tea from the gothic teapot into a mug. He hoped it didn't have any of the delightful homicidal additions that many of the Black antiques in Grimmauld Place had featured. "It's about...Bellatrix."

The teapot jumped and tea sloshed over the edge of the mug. Andromeda – her face composed into an expressionless mask that had to be part of the genetics of pureblood families – carefully placed the teapot back on the tray and pressed her hands together as she observed Harry.

"What about her?" she asked, her voice betraying no emotion. "I believe you know that I had no real contact with my sisters after I was disowned for marrying Ted."

Harry hated the way her voice had become clipped and polite. "I was wondering who inherited her things once she had...you know...gone."

Andromeda sat very still for a moment, before picking up the teapot again and finishing pouring the tea. "I don't know for sure, Harry. It wasn't me – she would have hated for her things to come to me. They wouldn't have gone to her husband either." She paused as she ran the options through her head. "Unless she created a will stating otherwise – unlikely as she spent most of her adult life as a Death Eater or escaped criminal – I'm sure her things would have gone to Narcissa. Or rather more technically, to Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy!" Harry stared at her. "Why?"

"The older pureblood families are very old-fashioned. Unless specifically stated otherwise, inheritance only goes to women if there are no close male heirs around. Draco is the only male left in the Black line. He would have inherited Bellatrix's things on his mother's behalf. Although she has some claim over them, it would be his duty to manage them. Any money or valuables would be kept in his bank vault."

Harry sat back, pressing fingers to his closed eyes. "Damn."

"Harry? Can I ask what this is about?" Andromeda sounded very worried.

"I think Bellatrix may have had something I really need."

Andromeda looked incredulous. "What on earth could my sister have owned that you could have any interest in?"

"She didn't own it," Harry explained. "Voldemort did. But I have reason to believe he gave it to her to look after."

"Voldemort? Harry, what are you getting mixed up in?"

"Nothing! Nothing like what you're thinking, anyway. It's not to do with Crouch or the Muggleborn killing or anything."

"So what is it? This important thing?"

_:-I don't know how much to tell her-:_ Harry appealed to his family.

_:-You can trust Andromeda,-: _Sirius said. _:-Tell her as much as you need to.-:_

Harry hesitated, stirring his tea slowly. "It's a book. Voldemort had a book that I need and I've been looking for it."

Andromeda raised an elegant black eyebrow. "A book? May I enquire as to the title?"

Harry pressed his lips together, weighing up the pros and cons, and coming to the conclusion that the more help he had, the better. "It's called _Sacrum Obitus__._"

This time, both Andromeda's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "That old book of fairytale magic? I thought all the copies were lost."

"You know it?"

"Yes." Andromeda sipped her tea delicately. "My mother was fanatical about pureblood traditions and legends. The Black family is rife with them, of course, but she also made it her business to teach us about the traditions of other families. She was quite scathing about the legend of the Deathly Hallows, and of the families who believed they were descended from the Peverell brothers. In spite of it, though, she longed to get her hands on a book as valuable as _Sacrum Obitus_. What an addition that would have been to the Black library! But all the books were lost – the last being the one belonging to the Gaunt family. They've died out now. A good thing, too; the lot of them were even more insane that the Blacks. At least we churned out a couple of decent ones each generation."

Harry shook his head. "They hadn't completely died out, you know. Voldemort was the half blood son of...the daughter of Marvolo Gaunt."

"Great Merlin! Marvolo Gaunt reproduced? What an awful thought. And Voldemort...." She shook her head, her eyes dazed. "No wonder he was like that. The Gaunts had Dark magic in their blood. It made them powerful, but infected their minds."

Harry picked up a scone from the plate Andromeda had provided with the tea and took a bite. "You know," he said, his mouth full. "If I'd come to you before you could have saved me a _lot_ of researching time."

"_Swallow_ before you speak, Harry. Honestly, you're worse than your godfather sometimes. So are you going to tell me why you need _Sacrum Obitus_?"

"So I can become the Master of Death. Obviously."

"Of course," Andromeda murmured. "How silly of me."

Harry smiled. "I'll tell you more when I know more myself. I promise. I guess I'm going to have to find some way to suck up enough to Draco Malfoy that he'll lend me that book."

"Good luck," Andromeda said. "Have you taken part in many prison breaks before? Passed on from godfather to godson, is it? Maybe it's a good thing you're not seeing Teddy too often."

"Prison breaks?"

"You do remember that all those Death Eaters who were let off in trials following Voldemort's death have been taken into custody, don't you? It's part of the Ministry's plan to keep the Wizarding World safe from new threats.

"You have _got _to be joking. I have to break Malfoy out of prison?"

"If it's any consolation, I believe that those Death Eaters like him who weren't actually charged with an Azkaban prison sentence are being held at the ministry. You won't have to deal with Dementors."

Harry groaned and slumped forward at the table. "Oh good. That's some consolation. I'll only have to fool the entire Auror Department and the Minister of Magic himself."

"We do what we must, my dear." Andomeda poured herself another cup of tea. "Is it really this important?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a wail from upstairs. "_Grandmaaaaaaa_!"

Andromeda sighed and lowered her cup, but Harry reached out to stop her rising from her seat. "I'll go and see to him."

Teddy's bedroom was painted a cheerful yellow, and fluffy farm animals gamboled together in a magical freeze around the walls. The little boy himself was peering over the edge of his cot, hair a brilliant royal blue, and chubby face screwed up in post-nap two-year-old misery. The expression changed instantly as Teddy caught sight of Harry hovering in the doorway.

"Harry! Up! Up!" His arms reached through the bars towards his godfather.

_:-Remus? Do you want to take over for a bit?-: _Harry asked silently.

_:-Oh, can I?-:_

Harry forced himself to the back of his own mind and his body staggered a little as Remus took over. From this disconcerting angle, Harry observed his own body moving over to the cot and scooping Teddy up into his arms. The little boy was soft and warm and smelled like sleepy child. Remus's breath hitched in Harry's throat as small arms wound themselves round his neck.

_:-Oh, Moony,-: _Sirius whispered reverently. _:-He's beautiful!-:_

Remus's breath hitched even more at that. He sat down on the armchair beside the cot with the toddler in his arms. "My Teddy, my beautiful little boy. Look at you! Look at him, Sirius!"

_:-You did good, love. He's gorgeous. Even if he is half-Tonks.-:_

_:-He's partly Black as well, remember,-: _Lily said, pressing comfortably against Sirius's mental presence. _:-He's related to you as well.-:_

"Harry play with me," Teddy commanded, squirming in Remus's hold.

"Just let me cuddle you a little bit longer, Teddy," Remus begged. "Just a few more minutes."

Teddy scowled but settled a little in his arms, and Remus leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, humming a soft, distantly familiar tune under his breath.

Teddy held out as long as his two-year-old patience would allow before he started squirming again. "Play now?"

Remus laughed – a warm Moony-laugh that sounded strange coming from Harry's mouth. "All right, you little monster. What do you want to play? How about – "

He broke off at a sound from the door and swung round to see Andromeda standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and her hand pressed over her mouth. If Harry's heart hadn't been being borrowed by Remus at that moment, it would have jumped in apprehension.

"Andromeda!"

"What's going on?" she whispered, her and still pressed to her mouth. "That's not your accent, Harry. That's not your voice."

"Please listen a second," Remus said, standing up with Teddy clutched to his chest.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Her wand was out in a few seconds and pointed in their direction. "You disguised yourself as Harry to find out where that book was, didn't you!"

"No, Andromeda! Please just listen!"

"Put him down, damn you!"

Teddy began to cry, squirming unhappily in Remus's arms as the tension in the room rose rapidly.

"_Put him down!_"

Remus backed up and carefully placed Teddy back in his cot. Then he raised his hands and moved away from his son.

_:-Let me back in!-: _Harry said, trying to force Remus away from the front of his mind. _:-Oh God, it's all going wrong!-:_

James, Lily and Sirius moved to pull him back, holding his mental presence trapped in the back of his own head.

_:-Stay here, Harry,-: _Lily said as he struggled to break free. _:-Let Remus do this. He was trained to deal with situations like this all the way through the war. He knows what to say.-:_

By this time, Remus had backed Harry's body up against the wall furthest away from the cot. He stood with his hands up behind his head as Teddy wailed in fear and distress.

"_Haaaarryyyyyyyyy!_"

Andromeda flinched, but never took her eyes or wand off Remus. "Hush, Teddy. This isn't Harry."

"No I'm not," Remus agreed quietly, making sure he didn't make any sudden movements. "Not right now. But I'm not going to hurt you or Teddy, Andromeda."

Teddy quieted a little, sniffling as his wide grey eyes flicked between the two adults.

"Where's your wand?" Andromeda aimed her own at his chest and took a step closer.

"In my back pocket," Remus said, tilting his hip a little so Andromeda could see it. Harry felt his mouth pull up into a wry smile under Remus's control. "I should learn to keep it in that lovely arm holster Hermione bought me, really. It will be my own fault when I accidently hex off my own right buttock."

_:-What the hell are you doing?" _Harry demanded. _:-This is no time for jokes!-: _

_:-Trust me.-:_

Andromeda was also apparently unnerved by the change in tone. She faltered a little, before Teddy gave a whimper and her face hardened again. Keeping her wand trained on Harry's chest, she took a step forward and neatly hooked his wand out of his pocket. Then she backed up again in the direction of the cot so her body was blocking Teddy from sight.

Harry experienced a sudden vivid vision of a young woman with long red hair also poised in front of a cot; this one containing a small messy-haired, green-eyed baby. The vision overlapped what he was seeing now – two women almost vibrating with furious maternal rage, willing to do whatever it took to protect their children. He wondered if the picture was so clear in his mind because the parallel had occurred to more than one occupant of his head.

"Tell me who you are and what you want or I'll hex your balls into leeches and have them bite you." The most frightening thing about this statement (aside from the fact that the only thing standing between Harry and castration-via-leech-Transfiguration was a rather mild-tempered werewolf), was the fact that it _was_ a statement, not a threat. Andromeda's tone was cold and matter-of-fact, and Harry knew right away that she was _not _joking.

"I'd rather you didn't," Remus replied. "I don't think Padfoot ever quite recovered from the trauma of that experience, and I'd hate for Harry to go through the same thing."

Andromeda's face drained of colour, and the tip of her wand wavered. "Who _are_ you? How do you know that name?"

"I think you're beginning to suspect, aren't you, Andromeda?" said Remus gently. "Tell me: What do you know about _Sacrum Obitus_?"

"I-It's a book of fairytale magic. It's got to do with the D-Deathly Hallows. Just tell me who you _are_. Please!"

Teddy tried to peer round Andromeda's back, and she moved to block his sight.

"Do you know what you're supposed to be able to achieve with this book if you have access to the Deathly Hallows?"

There was a long silence and Remus stayed rock solid and unmoving against the wall. Even from his removed perspective at the back of his own mind Harry could feel that his raised arms were beginning to cramp.

"Become the Master of Death," Andromeda murmured eventually. "I remember it well. Bellatrix always loved the greed and tragedy of that legend."

"And why would Harry, of all people – Hero of the Wizarding World, Beacon of the Light Side, Defeater of the Dark Lord – want access to a book that would make him Master of Death? "

Andromeda's lips moved to shape the word 'family', though she never said the word aloud.

"You know Harry," Remus said, his voice quiet. "A hero and celebrity, yes, but at heart still an orphaned boy who grew up in an abusive home and desperate for a real family. And you know me too, don't you? You know my voice, even altered as it is in this body."

This time Andromeda mouthed the word 'Remus', her face gaunt with grief and a desperate desire not to see this glimmer of hope die.

"Yes, I am."

There was another long silence as Andromeda's free hand rose to her mouth and pressed hard against her lips, as if to hold back a sob.

"May I lower my arms?" Remus asked, his voice soft.

Andromeda brought her wand swiftly back up at the words, her face growing hard. "What have you done with Harry? Have you possessed him?"

Harry wrenched himself away from his family and shoved Remus aside. His body shuddered briefly as it adjusted to the change of control. "I'm right here, Andromeda. We all are – my family and me. My head's rather like a commune for lost souls at the moment."

Andromeda swayed, her wand shaking violently. Harry leaped forward, ducking the spell that Andromeda cast instinctively at the sudden movement, and caught her before she collapsed to the floor.

"Here, here. Sit down." He led her to the chair Remus had been sitting in earlier. "I know it's a shock. It took a while for me to get used to it as well. I didn't want to bother you with it, but Remus really wanted a turn to hold Teddy."

Andromeda raised a shaky, wondering hand up to brush Harry's temple. "That's why your magical aura feels so odd. I thought it was stress or exposure to all that magic at Hogwarts. Is..." She swallowed. "Is my Nymphadora in there?"

Her face was so full of desperate hope that Harry was sure his heart physically tore a little. "I'm really sorry," he whispered. "It's just my mum and dad, and Remus and Sirius."

"Sirius." Andromeda bowed her head, her eyes resigned. "Of course it's Sirius. He was always the one. My darling girl could never quite match up, could she? I tried to tell her, but she loved him so much. You know that, don't you, Remus?"

"He does," Harry told her. "And he loved her, too. Remus is a good man. He would never have married her otherwise."

"Remus was a lonely, broken, heart-torn man," Andromeda said. "He loved her as much as he could. I can't blame him. Nymphadora was impossible to deny when she set her mind on something. He did his best by her."

Remus pressed forward and Harry moved aside for him.

"It wasn't enough, though, was it, Andy?" he said quietly.

Andromeda raised her head to look up at Teddy who was peering through the bars of his cot, his face blotchy and his hair a sulky black. Along with his grey eyes, he looked rather unnervingly like Sirius's son more than Remus's.

Andromeda turned back and reached out to take one of Harry's hands between her own. "It was enough, Remus."


	11. The Rather UnderPar Gloating of One Har

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series still belongs to JK Rowling, not me.**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Real Life insists on intruding. ****Thanks for all the reviews! **

**M**** x**

**The Rather Under-Par Gloating of One Harry Potter**

Rodrey Ogburn – ex-Auror partner of the deceased Ted Tonks, now brought out of retirement by the Ministry – was a large, cheerful man with a voice like a foghorn and the permanent flush of redness over his nose and cheeks that spoke of too many years in the company of Ogden's Finest. He had a bristly, greying moustache and well-oiled hair that made a valiant but ultimately unsuccessful attempt at disguising a growing bald patch. Had Harry met Auror Ogburn in the Muggle world, he would have immediately pinned him as a retired Colonel of the British army.

Right now, Rodrey Ogburn, Harry, and a rather young and inexperienced Auror, Toby Eggers (who kept tripping over his robes as he seemed physically unable to tear his eyes away from Harry's scar), were heading down into the bowels of the Ministry of Magic where the un-sentenced ex-Death Eaters were being kept in custody.

"I must say, Mr. Potter," Auror Ogburn boomed, his red jowls wobbling cheerfully in counterpoint, "I'm not entirely sure why you would _want _to come down here. Surely you, of all people, have had your fill of Death Eaters and Dark Wizards?" He motioned Harry and the younger Auror into the lift.

Harry entered and kept the door open a little longer than necessary, only releasing it as he felt the light brush of the invisibility cloak Hermione was wearing against his arm. "Call it a need to deal with the ghosts of my past," Harry murmured. If he was truthful, he was rather nervous around the older man. Even though he seemed jolly and pleasant enough, he was too much like a cross between Slughorn and Vernon Dursley to set Harry's mind at ease.

"Ghosts, eh?" Ogburn clapped a clumsy hand onto Harry's shoulder in what he obviously considered a comforting manner. "Yes, I dare say you have plenty of those, lad." He nodded towards the young Auror, who flinched under their gazes. "Eggers here still needs to learn about those. Coddling parents kept him out the War as much as possible. He needs to toughen up a bit before we send him out. Most of these new ones do. Wet around the ears, they are. Pity more of your lot didn't join up."

Harry gave the humiliated and blushing Eggers an apologetic glance. "Most of us had seen enough fighting. We wanted something different when the War was over."

"It's never over, lad. Here we are – bit of an unwelcoming place, this, eh? Don't want them getting too comfortable. I'm surprised Andromeda asked me to bring you down here, actually. She's almost as protective of you as she is of your godson."

"She knows about the ghosts," Harry said cryptically, feeling the air around him discreetly until Hermione's invisible hand brushed his and he could be sure she was still with them.

He looked around. They were in a bland stone corridor lit by stark magical globes that hovered in regimented lines down the centre of the ceiling. The corridor was lined by dozens of heavy wooden doors, each locked securely. It wasn't as bad as Harry had feared. In spite of the starkness, the corridor was clean and the air didn't smell too stale.

"So, who do you want to see?" Ogburn asked. Eggers was glancing around nervously, and Harry wondered if it was his first time down here as well. The young man really did need toughening up. His gangly limbs were tense and nervous, his rather obvious Adam's apple bobbing up and down rapidly in his neck.

"Er...Draco Malfoy, please."

Ogburn's expression darkened. "Are you sure? That one should have been in Azkaban right beside his father."

"I'm sure."

Ogburn gave him a long, assessing look that left Harry with the uncomfortable impression that the man was neither as oblivious nor as unintelligent as he first appeared. "I heard you and the Malfoy boy were old rivals at school. Come to gloat?"

Harry's felt his back stiffen defensively. "If you remember, I was one of the people who gave evidence at both his and his mother's trials to keep them out of Azkaban."

Eggers shot Harry a rather shocked glance, then looked nervously towards Ogburn to see his reaction.

"I do remember that," Ogburn said, twirling his wand absently through his fingers with a dexterity that belied their plumpness. "I was also Ted's partner for many years and know that his Andromeda would never have arranged for me to take you down here if all you needed to do was gloat."

Harry felt his heart rate pick up and cast around for something to say.

"I also know that the whole Tonks family were members of Dumbledore's secret little society. Now, I ask myself – Rodrey, I say, what would the Boy Who Lived, Defeater of the Dark Lord want with an old school rival who also happens to be an ex-Death Eater?"

_:-Lie, but don't elaborate,-: _Sirius said tightly. _:-This old Auror is sharp as Moody was. We need to be careful. He was never part of the Order. Unlike Ted, his loyalty was first and foremost to the Ministry and the Law.-:_

"Ghosts," Harry repeated. "I'm only nineteen. I want to get on with my life, and I can't do that until I get rid of my ghosts."

He bore up under Ogburn's intense, red-cheeked gaze, before the old Auror suddenly straightened, the jolly cheerful-Colonel expression slipping easily back onto his face.

"Alright, lad," he boomed, slapping Harry on the back. "Let's take you to see the Malfoys then if your heart is set on it."

He led the way down the corridor and stopped outside a door that looked identical to the others except that the words 'Malfoy, N' and 'Malfoy, D' were inscribed with magic onto a name plate.

"We put the two of them together because individually they were driving their cell mates crazy," Ogburn informed him.

He opened the door, and Harry moved in slowly to give Hermione time to follow. They entered into a narrow strip of space. One whole wall was made up of glass that looked out onto two small matching cells. They were lined with metal bars, so Harry could see clearly inside. Each cell contained a small bed, a magical flushing toilet and a basin. It was clear that this was the Ministry's nod towards comfort for their not-entirely-legal prisoners.

Sitting on the beds facing one another were Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco appeared to be angry or frustrated. Although Harry couldn't hear his words through the glass, his agitated gestures and flushed face as he spoke to his mother conveyed his mood clearly. Narcissa, on the other hand, perched on the edge of her bed, her legs regally crossed, looking every inch the refined and unaffected aristocrat, in spite of the dull grey robes she wore that looked almost exactly the same as the ones on Draco.

Ogburn flicked his wand, and suddenly Malfoy's voice could be heard clearly through the glass. "...Don't understand why you're taking this all so calmly, Mother! They have no right to lock us up like animals! We...."

"Charmed glass," Ogburn explained, raising his voice over Malfoy's. We can see or hear out, but to them it looks like a blank, white wall.

Harry jumped as a warm breath fluttered against his ear from an invisible source. "I need to go right in," Hermione whispered quietly, her voice unheard over Malfoy's ranting. "I need to check the kinds of charms they have on the cells."

"Er...can we go in?" Harry asked obediently.

Ogburn's eyebrows rose. "You want to talk to them?"

"If I could."

Ogburn sighed. "Very well. I hope you realise that this is not entirely following the rules. Not a word from you, Eggers!"

The skinny Auror shook his head mutely, eyes wide

Ogburn went over to a section of the glass that looked exactly the same as all the rest and begun muttering spells under his breath, his wand moving in complicated motions. Harry couldn't hear him over Malfoy's voice.

"...Have no idea what you mean about making the best of it!" the blonde wizard was saying, gesturing at his mother through the bars that divided their cells. Her expression, even through her perfect pureblood mask, was long-suffering. "There is no way this whole situation could get any worse!"

"There you go, lad," Ogburn said, stepping back as a doorway appeared in the glass. Harry ducked through it and onto the strip of floor in front of the cells.

Malfoy glanced up at the noise, gaped, and then slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sometimes," he said in a muffled voice, "I really should learn when to keep my mouth shut."

"I've been trying to tell you that for years, darling," Narcissa said, looking at Harry as though he was something green and gooey she had been forced to scrape off the sole of her favourite high-heeled boot.

Harry, for his part, was trying to take in as much about the Malfoy's prison as he could. The chances of breaking Malfoy out looked pretty hopeless. The bars were magically sealed, so there was no lock to pick. The Aurors hovered over his shoulders, and judging by the fact that the cells looked fairly clean, Harry guessed they were checked on regularly.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy demanded, standing up and approaching the bars. "Come to gloat?"

_:-Do I _look _like someone who enjoys gloating a lot?-: _Harry asked irritably. _:-Why does everyone keep asking me that?-:_

_:-They're trying to guess your reason for being here, love,-: _Lily said. _:-Have a look for any weaknesses in the bars.-:_

_:-Weaknesses?-: _Remus sighed_. :-This place is sealed tighter than a water drum.-:_

_:-They always are,-: _said Sirius. _:-No easily-picked locks or handy trap doors. Though mine wasn't nearly as comfortable as this. Trust the Malfoys to get the easy ride.-:_

_:-They shouldn't be__ here at all!-: _Harry told him. _:-They were both given pardons for services to the Light side.-:_

_:-I shouldn't have been there either.-:_

"Potter? _Potter?_ Great Merlin, you look even more gormless than usual. I didn't think it was possible in anything that hadn't crawled out from under a rock four million years ago. What's the matter? Struck dumb by my stunning good looks?"

Harry blinked and looked at Malfoy. It was only now that he was this close that he saw signs that the young man's imprisonment might not be as easy as it first appeared. There was a fading yellow-purple bruise over one eye, and Malfoy's face looked even more pointy and angular than usual. Hollow-cheeked and limp-haired, he looked disconcertingly like Sirius did a few months after his escape from Azkaban. It was obvious that they were closely linked by family.

"Well?" Malfoy said impatiently. "Get it over with. Do your gloating and go."

"Er..." Harry wondered how much longer Hermione would need for her examination. "Right. Yeah. Gloating." He cleared his throat. "Malfoy, you look like a ferret whose been subjected to too many bouncing hexes, and you ...er... deserve to be here for your – you know – bad deeds. "

_:-Godric's balls, Harry, is that the best you can do?-; _James sounded aggrieved. _:-Your godfather obviously neglected an important aspect of your education. You can't even gloat believably.-:_

_:-It wasn't my fault,-: _Sirius said. _:-Moony got to him first. I think some of his stuffy Professorness infected him.-:_

_:-Thank you, Remus,-: _said Lily.

_:-Just doing my bit for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World.-: _

Malfoy obviously agreed with James because he raised an elegant eyebrow, before his face twisted into a familiar sneer. "You see what I had to put up with, mother?" He gestured towards Harry with an expression of disgust. "And you wondered why I always wanted to follow in father's footsteps when I was younger. This was the other option. I present to you the Almighty Defeater of the Dark Lord. '_Bad deeds'_. Honestly."

"Hey!" Harry said. "I spoke up for you. I saved you life!"

"And I am more embarrassed by that fact every day. Why don't you run off and crawl back under your rock?"

"We can go now, Harry," Hermione whispered directly into Harry's ear, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Right, well." Harry gave Malfoy a bright smile which caused the other young man to step back suspiciously. "It's been a pleasure gloating at you and all, but I really must be off." He backed hurriedly through the door in the glass wall.

"Potter! Hey, Potter! Come back! What were you doing h– " Malfoy's voice was cut off as the door in the glass disappeared.

Harry turned to find Ogburn studying him closely. "All done?" he asked.

"Yup," Harry said, made manically cheerful by the fact that this task was nearly over. "Ghosts all gone."

"As easy as that, eh?"

_:-He can't figure you out at all,-: _James remarked. _:-You're like the new Dumbledore – mysterious and eccentric but always working towards the Greater Good.-:_

_:-I'm not sure releasing you and Padfoot back into the living world can really be constituted as in the interests of the Greater Good,-:_ said Remus.

_:-Well, the Greater Fun, anyway,-: _James amended.

_:-Is it moral to be working towards the Greater Fun while leaving the Greater Good to everyone else?-: _Harry thought guiltily about Crouch and his exploding Dementors and growing army of revenge-crazed wizards and witches.

_:-I'm sure that reintroducing Lily and Moony will be for the Greater Good,-: _Sirius assured him.

_:-AND the Greater Fun and the Greater Shagging,-:_ added James. _:-It's really a win-win situation.-:_

_:-I do not want to know _anything _about the Greater Shagging,-:_Harry said quickly.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Harry looked around to find he'd followed the two Aurors back out into the large Ministry Atrium. The newly-restored golden fountain tinkled merrily above the harassed chatter of passing Ministry workers.

"Oh - yeah," he said, turning to look at Ogburn and Eggers. "Thanks for everything. I'm sure I'll see you again."

"That's all you wanted?" Eggers blurted. "To half-heartedly gloat at Malfoy?"

It was the first thing he'd said since Ogburn had introduced them.

"Pretty much, yeah," Harry told him. "It was all about the ghosts. It was good to meet you both."

"What ghosts?" Eggers called after him, but Harry didn't answer as he stepped into the magical telephone box and headed back up towards Muggle London.

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The atmosphere in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place was one of distinct gloom. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Teddy say around the table drinking teach, while Kreacher fussed around them.

"I'd say we're pretty much screwed," Ron said, grabbing another cherry muffin and stuffing it into his mouth whole. Teddy gurgled a delighted laugh as Kreacher muttered about bad-mannered blood traitors in a voice that sounded more like a good-natured grumble than the maliciousness of their fifth year.

Harry sighed. "Ron, I've only just taught Teddy not to stuff breadsticks up his nose. If I take him back to Andromeda with that awful habit, she'll never let me have him again."

"Hey, can we stay on track here?" Hermione said, slapping Ron round the back of his head so he choked violently and simultaneously wiping Teddy's mouth with his bib. Harry was always amazed at how women seemed to have such an instinctive ability to multitask without thinking about it.

"Well? What can we do?" Ron swallowed painfully, a large lump of muffin almost visibly making its way down his throat. "There's no way we can break The Ferret out of that place. Its security is as good as Gringotts."

Harry couldn't help grinning at that. "Well, I don't know about you, but I have a distinct memory of successfully breaking into Gringotts and stealing something. _And_ getting away with it. This should be a picnic in comparison."

"Oh Merlin, you don't think he'll start multiplying into millions of identical Malfoys that burn you when you try to grab them, do you?" Ron looked horrified by the thought.

"I'd rather avoid dragons, goblins, basilisks, homicidal diaries, dementors, blast-ended skrewts, giant chess sets, spiders, insane Dark wizards, and flying Ford Anglias as well, if at all possible," Hermione added.

_:-You two really did a dismal job of keeping our boy out of danger,-: _Lily said, rounding on Sirius and Remus.

_:-Says the woman who managed to kick the bucket not even two years into his life__,__-: _said Sirius sulkily.

_:-That wasn't my fault.-:_

_:-Bellatrix blasting me through the veil wasn't on my agenda of 'Things to do Today' either-:_

_:-I taught him the Patronus charm,-: _Remus volunteered.

Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Can we get on topic?"

Ron gave him a look. "We are on topic."

"Not you lot. If I have to live with this bickering in my head for much longer I'm going to lose my sanity." He stood up, lifted Teddy out of his high chair, and placed him on the floor, where he scurried on all fours towards the pile of toys Kreacher had collected up from the floor and put in a wooden box by the door.

_:-Let's step back from this for a second,-: _Remus suggested._ :-What experiences can we take from people we know who have broken out of prison before?-:_

Sirius's mental presence tinted blue with wry amusement. _:-The sad thing is that we actually can say that in the plural sense.-:_

"Well," said Hermione, once Harry had repeated Remus's words, "We know that Barty Crouch Jr.'s father took his mother to the prison and swapped them around. Then she took Polyjuice Potion to disguise herself as her son until she died. Everyone was fooled."

"Do we know anyone who would sacrifice themselves for Malfoy's freedom?" Harry asked hopefully.

_:-Ha! The only person who might have is already in there with him,-: _Sirius said.

"Stupid git. Why couldn't he be a bit more lovable?" Harry dropped to the floor and fielded Teddy away from the crockery cupboard, distracting him with a pair of magically dancing toy weasels. He tried to remember who had given them to his godson. They really were disturbingly realistic.

"'Nake!" Teddy said, pointing and clapping delightedly.

"No, not snake," Harry said. "Weasel. _Weasel._ Can you say it?"

"Weee-bel."

"Close enough, mate. You can tell by the fact they have fur and legs and don't look anything like snakes."

"'Nake!"

"No. Honestly." Harry dug round in the toy box. "_This _is a snake." It was bobble-eyed, orange and made of plastic. "I have no idea how you developed a snake obsession. I can only hope you don't have homicidal tendencies and a desire to rule the world when you grow up."

"'Nake! Ssssssssss!"

"Yes, ssssssssss!"

"Ssssss!"

"Ssssssss!"

Teddy jammed the head of the snake in Harry's right ear, and his small knee painfully into Harry's groin as he squirmed on his lap.

"So we can't think of anyone who'll let themselves be put in prison in Malfoy's place," Hermione continued meaningfully. "Not that we could get him out anyway. We might be able to break in as far as the room they're in, but there's no way we'll get past the bars. I examined both our memories in Dumbledore's pensieve. I'm almost positive they need person-specific identification. Like fingerprints or something in the Muggle world."

"So we've got to get him out _through_ the bars," Harry said. "Ow! Snake won't go in my ear, Teddy."

_:-You reckon there's no chance Malfoy's an animagus?-: _Sirius asked.

"Nah," Ron said, when Harry repeated the question out loud. "If he was he could have scuttled away like the ferret he is on the day of the Battle, rather than relying on us to save his sorry arse all the time."

"_Ferret!_"

Hermione's sudden yell caused Ron to jerk violently and fall off his chair.

"Good God, Hermione," Harry said, as Teddy crawled forward to investigate this new floor-bound playmate. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Ron whimpered in agreement as Teddy kneed him in the stomach and stuffed the snake up his nose.

"We turn him in a _ferret_!" Hermione said. "Like Crouch did that time. Then he can get through the bars and we can get him out under the invisibility cloak with us."

"That's _brilliant_, Hermione!" Ron stared at her with love-struck admiration.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "We just need to find that spell."

_:-There is one problem-: _James said.

"What?" Harry asked.

_:-Can I take over so you don't have to repeat it?-: _

Harry sighed and moved away from the front of his mind to let his father take control.

"There is one problem," James said, his deeper voice and rather aristocratic accent twisting Harry's voice so the others immediately knew who was speaking.

"Yeah?" Ron always looked slightly nervous when one of the others took over Harry's body. Harry suspected that in Sirius's and Remus's case is was news of their relationship, which was still looked on very unfavourably in the Wizarding World. In James's and Lily's case it was partly the fact they had been lauded as heroes for so long, and partly the fact they were Ron's best friend's parents. However, he was obviously determined to defend his girlfriend's idea if necessary. "What's that, then?" 

James cast him a knowing glance. "If Malfoy up and disappears from his cell with no explanation, where will the blame land?"

"Why cares?" Ron said, shrugging. "People will probably say it was Crouch or his followers or something. Or maybe that Malfoy used Dark Magic."

James shook his head, running his hand through Harry's messy hair in a gesture that was all his own. "Put yourself in the place of an Auror. Someone has escaped from your supposedly inescapable prison. You're desperate to find someone powerful to blame. You do a bit of research - find out that a certain Boy Who Lived was seen going into the Malfoys' cell for no apparent reason a few days earlier, and then leaving again with no explanation. They will also remember that this was the same young man who stood up for the Malfoys at their trial and prevented them from being sent to prison."

A long silence greeted this explanation.

"Ah," Hermione said eventually. "That would present a small problem."

"So we're right back where we started then." Ron collapsed back on the floor of the kitchen and ignored Teddy who had decided to use him as a climbing frame.

"Not quite," Remus's calm voice said from Harry's mouth, having poked James out the way. He reached out and scooped Teddy up into his arms – something he did whenever he had the chance in Harry's body. "We now have a way of retrieving Malfoy from behind the bars of the cell without unlocking them. All we have to do is go back to plan A, and find someone who will replace him."

"Everyone hates Malfoy!" Ron protested. "Our side hates him, the Dark side hates him. The only person who showed any kind of desire to help him was his school rival (Merlin only knows why), and we can't stick Harry in there."

"Master?" Kreacher cringed as all their attention turned to him. "May Kreacher have permission to speak?"

Harry's body shuddered slightly as he took over again. He noticed the way Ron and Hermione shifted their eyes away uncomfortably as it happened. "Of course, Kreacher."

"Kreacher likes the Malfoy boy. Kreacher would replace him if Master wishes. All Master would have to do is find a way to disguise Kreacher as him."

_:-There's an idea,-: _Sirius said cheerfully. _:-You get to rescue Malfoy AND get rid of that awful little toerag at the same time.-:_

_:-Shut up, Sirius,-: _Harry scolded him silently. _:-Kreacher has taken care of me very well over the past couple of years. Would it kill you to be nice to him?-:_

_:-You didn't grow up with him. He's a master at the elfish firewhip curse. You can't just forgive and forget that easily.-:_

"No," Hermione put in. "It's not fair to use Kreacher like that."

"He _offered_, Hermione," Ron pointed out. "If it had been a human being who offered you would have jumped at the chance. I thought you wanted _equal_ rights for house elves."

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to snap back, but Harry interjected. "We can't have Kreacher in there. What if we need him here for something else? He's been very useful so far."

Kreacher preened and tugged self-consciously at the clean tea towel he wore.

Sirius did the mental equivalent of tapping on Harry's shoulder, and Harry sighed and moved back to let him take over. "If Harry insists on keeping Kreacher," Sirius said, twisting Harry's face into an unpleasant scowl at the little elf. "Why don't we use one of the Malfoy's other house elves? I know that Lucius's family had at least three, and even though Dobby's gone, there should still be two around. The Ministry can confiscate their money and property, but no one has found a way to confiscate a house elf yet. They should still serve the Malfoy family."

"Now there's an idea," Ron said, a grin alighting on his face. "But how would we contact them?"

Kreacher raised a gnarled little hand. "Kreacher could find them for Master."

Harry shoved Sirius aside. "You could? That would be brilliant! Do you think you could persuade them to cooperate?"

"If it was for their Master's good, they will do anything."

"How soon could you find them?"

"Kreacher will leave right away, Master."

The house elf gave a short bow, then disappeared with a crack.


	12. Get In, Get The Git, Get out

**Disclaimer: Still not mine**

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**Get In, Get the Git, Get Out**

Ron had warned Harry about George. All the Weasleys had. And Harry, for his part, hadn't believed them. When he'd seen the remaining Weasley twin at family get-togethers he seemed his usual self – a little darker, maybe, but not irreparably damaged by the death of his twin as his family claimed and Harry had expected.

It wasn't until the young man led Harry up to the flat above his shop that Harry began to get an idea of just what his family meant. As he walked in through the front door, Harry was confronted with the image of his own face, fixed into an expression of surprise. It took a few second for him to realise that it was his reflection. He glanced to the side and was faced with another reflection, staring back at him in consternation.

As he edged his way into the little front hall, Harry's eyes flicked over the walls. Every one of them was completely covered by full-length mirrors, and ahead of him, George turned into the living room, his twin reflection beside him. Harry wished he had missed the way that George's fingers fluttered in the smallest wave of greeting to his own identical image.

_:-Now this is rather disturbing,-: _Sirius murmured.

_:-Good God, the poor lad__.__-: _Remus's voice was very sober. _:-There has to be something we can do for him.-:_

_:-Like what?-:_ Harry asked, running one hand over the clear glass of the nearest mirror. _:-We can't bring Fred back from the dead unless his soul is hanging round in my head. You haven't seen him around, have you?-:_

_:-Believe me,-: _said James_, :-No one else could hide in here. No one else could FIT in here.-:_

"Harry?" Harry looked up to see George peering round the door, of the living room. "You don't have to hang round in the hall, mate. Come through."

Harry attempted a smile and followed him into the living room, his stomach tight with apprehension. The furniture was all Fred-and-George. Lime green dragon-leather sofas, luminous yellow curtains at the window, scarlet and gold carpet. There was nothing to demonstrate a state of deep mourning expect for the fact that every wall was lined with mirrors.

"Take a seat. I'll get us some butterbeer."

Harry moved to sit, deliberately choosing a seat that allowed him a clear view of George and his reflection in the kitchen. Although Harry couldn't hear anything other than the popping of corks, he could see that George's lips moved as he murmured to his reflection, his shoulder lifting in a shrug and his head tilting as though he were hearing a reply. Harry felt his stomach roll with pity. He looked away and stared instead at the jumble of miscellaneous objects that littered the coffee table and the floor – signs of George's recent new inventions for the shop.

"Here." A bottle of butterbeer was waved into Harry's line of sight and he took it from George's freckled hand. The young man took a seat opposite him and swigged from his own bottle. "Now, Ron said you had a special request." He grinned at Harry and winked. "It's not something naughty is it? Something to make you more attractive to the ladies now you've left poor Ginny in the lurch?"

Harry felt himself flush so brightly he was sure his cheeks must match the carpet. "Er...no. It's nothing like that." He hesitated as George tilted his bottle in a slight toast to his own reflection before taking another gulp.

"So what is it?" George broke off and pursed his lips as he followed Harry's gaze to his identical image in the mirror. "I know what you're thinking. They probably warned you about me, didn't they?"

Harry quickly averted his eyes as George sighed tugged at the hair hanging over his missing ear.

"You think I'm insane. You all do. But I'm not. He really is here. I see him, Harry. I really do – Right there where my reflection used to be."

Harry gave a non-committal shrug and took a nervous gulp of his drink.

"I thought you, of all people, would understand. Strange things happen to you, too. Magical twins have a strong connection, you know. He didn't leave me when he died."

Harry took a deep breath and set his bottle on the coffee table, careful not to bump any of the half-built inventions. Things around the Weasley twins had a tendency to explode at unexpected moments. "You have to know how it looks, George."

"I know how it looks. I don't care. It's our home and we can decorate it however we like." He swallowed and ducked his head. "However I like."

_:-He has a point,-: _Sirius said. _:-You really have no right to talk. You have your family in your head, he has his brother in his reflection.-:_

_:-You really ARE in my head.-: _Harry pointed out.

_:-Would he believe you if you told him that?-:_ Lily asked

"Of course you can," Harry said aloud, in answer to George. "I didn't come here to judge you. You're right, I have no right talk considering all the things that have happened to me."

George gave a short nod, then visibly straightened, his face falling into its normal good-natured expression. "So what can I do for our favourite financial backer?"

"I was wondering if you could alter some Polyjuice Potion for me," Harry said, deciding to try and ignore George's use of the plural pronoun. "I need it to work on house-elves."

George blinked. "You need to change a house-elf into another house-elf, or a house-elf into a human?"

Harry smiled properly for the first time. Trust a Weasley twin to be completely unfazed by his bizarre request. "House-elf into a human."

"Now why would you need something like that, Harry Potter?" George grinned back. "You're not planning on getting into trouble, are you?"

"It depends on how you define trouble."

"Well, we generally define it as 'fun in the extreme'."

Harry relaxed as he laughed. "I think you would consider what I'm planning to be trouble, then."

"Good," said George, sitting back with a satisfied expression on his face. "It's nice to know you're not moping around anymore."

"I wasn't moping!"

"Oh, please. Hiding out in Grimmauld Place for weeks on end with only Kreacher for company. My family were more worried about you than me for ages."

"They were?" Harry felt a stab of guilt.

"It's what happens when people care for you, mate. There's nothing to be done about it really." He shared a sly glance with his twin-reflection. "So when's the wedding?"

Harry stared at him blankly. "What wedding?"

"Well, the only reason I can think of for you wanting to change a house-elf into a human is because you and Kreacher fell madly in love and want to consummate your relationship in human form."

Harry gaped. "_What?_"

"I'm just messing with you, mate. We can't resist the chance to see you blush that fetching shade of burgundy."

Harry pressed a hand to his burning cheek. "Idiot."

"Guilty as charged. You don't have to tell me. I'll do it. It shouldn't be too hard, and it's been a while since I've had an interesting assignment. When do you need it by?"

"As soon as possible." Harry hesitated, thinking about all the times George and Fred had been there to help and support him. He owed a lot to this lonely, one-eared man who'd been so damaged by the war. "I'm breaking someone out of prison."

George's eyebrows flew into his hairline. "Really? Cool. Should be marginally easier than breaking into Gringotts anyway."

Harry shook his head. "Does nothing faze you?"

"Not anymore, mate." He glanced as his reflection. "I've used up my quota of 'being shocked' for the rest of my life, I reckon. So...anyone I know?"

"Might be. How long do you reckon it'll take to get the potion together? I need rather a lot."

"A few days, if I work hard. I won't have to start the potion from scratch. Just alter an existing batch of Polyjuice a bit."

"That would be brilliant. I'll pay you."

"You don't have to."

"I will anyway." Harry sighed. "I'd better go. I left Teddy with your brother."

"With Ron?" George shook his head. "Poor little mite. Here – I made something for him. He'll need a reward for spending an afternoon under the tender loving care of my oaf of a brother." He opened a drawer and handed Harry a stuffed bear. "Mood bear. It changes colour if he's hungry, angry, happy...well, you get the picture."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling touched. "He'll love it. Were you responsible for those dancing weasels?"

"Might've been," George said evasively. "Are they driving you crazy yet?"

"Just about. Floo me when you've done the Polyjuice?"

"Of course."

Harry made his way into the hall again and opened the front door.

"Harry?"

He turned round. He couldn't see George himself, but his reflection was clear as he stood just inside the doorway of the living room.

"I'm not insane, mate."

There was something different about him that Harry couldn't put his finger on for a second. It was almost like seeing a glimpse of the old George. Harry nodded and smiled, turning back to the door. Just as he was about to step out, he realised what the odd thing had been about the reflection. It had two intact ears.

Harry swung back round to see the figure in the mirror still standing there. One ear - George's reflection.

It winked.

Shakily, Harry stepped out and shut the door.

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"It's a good thing he won't have to brew the potion from scratch," Hermione said, as she, Harry, and Ron met in the Leaky Cauldron two days later. "It takes a month and I have no idea how we would have managed if we had to do this during term time, rather than the Christmas holidays. Harry and I are under a lot of scrutiny at Hogwarts – especially since he's become Head of Slytherin."

"How was George, Harry?" Ron asked, obviously trying to sound nonchalant.

Harry sighed and sipped his butterbeer. "It was quite unnerving. All those mirrors everywhere..." he shuddered. "But – I dunno. There was a moment when I wondered – you know – if maybe..."

"Don't fall for it, mate," Ron interrupted. "It's all those mirrors. They do a number on your sanity. You start really believing you see his reflection moving _slightly_ out of time, or it winks at you when George doesn't or something. But it's all in the mind. Mum talked to some Healers at St. Mungo's about it, and they said he's in denial and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't face it."

"But maybe he _isn't _insane," Harry persisted. "I mean, most people would think _I_ was if I told them I had my family living in my head."

"Really, Harry. Don't fall for it. I loved Fred, but we all saw his body. He's dead, and we've just got to accept it." Ron's voice cracked, and his fingers were tight and white around his glass.

_:-Leave it, love,-: _Lily added. _:-Can't you see you're upsetting him?-:_

_:-But we're going to be Masters of Death,-: _Harry said. _:-If Fred really _is_ hanging on to George like he thinks, maybe we can bring him back as well.-:_

_:-Then we'll find out ourselves. Don't drag Ron into it. Fred was his brother. If we raise his hopes and it turns out it really is just in George's mind, how will he feel?-:_

Harry had no answer for that.

"So about the spell to transfigure Malfoy into a ferret," Hermione said, in an obvious ploy to chance the subject. "I've been searching everywhere to find it. Forced transfiguration of a human being into smaller mammals is near to impossible."

"What?" Harry felt his stomach drop. "But Moody did it!"

"It's really difficult to chance a person's DNA so completely that they take on the characteristics of a completely different species. It's easier to change them into inanimate objects because they don't have their own instincts or 'personalities'. A human being's personality, physicality, and magic are naturally robust. If you try and change it, it tends to bounce right back into shape."

"So you can't do it?" Ron asked, sounding as hope-punctured as Harry felt.

"I never said that," Hermione said primly. "I just said I don't think there is an easy spell designed to change a person into a ferret. It might work with a complicated potion – like a variation of polyjuice – but we'd have to ask George to fix it for us, and he'd have to have 'essence of ferret' to put into it. I've found a better spell, though." She smiled enigmatically at them.

"Well?" Harry said. "What is it?"

"The forced Animagus transformation spell. It's not like a real Animagus transformation – it doesn't give the person the ability to change into an animal at will - but it _does _change them into their inner animal. You know - the animal they would change into if they _did _go through the long, complicated process of becoming an Animagus. It's a one-time thing, though. And they're stuck in that form until another wizard changes them back. They have the essence of that animal in them already, which is why it's easier than a standard animal transfiguration. I think that was the spell Moody must have used."

Harry and Ron stared at her in surprise, then a slow smile began to spread across Ron's face. "You mean to tell me that Malfoy's inner animal is a _ferret_?" he asked with glee.

Hermione's mouth twitched as she fought her amusement. "It begins to look that way."

"Oh, this is _brilliant_!" Ron's expression was rapturous. "It almost makes it worth having to break him out of prison, being able to rub his face in it."

"Ron, that's very cruel," Hermione said, though it sounded as though her heart wasn't in it.

"You'd better be sure your inner animal isn't a weasel or something first," Harry added. "The mocking could go both ways, you realise."

The grin sidled sheepishly off Ron's face to be replaced by a look of dawning horror. "Good Merlin, you don't think it is, do you?"

"As I said – you've got to be sure."

"Boys!" Hermione snapped her fingers in front of their faces. "Focus! The point is that before we break him out, Harry needs to be taught the spell, George needs to finish the potion for the house elf, and we need to make plans for breaking into the Ministry. Also, Kreacher arrived back with the house-elf earlier, and we need to check it can pull off a believable performance as Malfoy. We have a lot of work to do." She gave Ron a sideways glance. "Besides – you'd probably be a Jack Russell terrier."

"You what?"

"Unless some significant person or event in your life has altered its appearance, a Patronus charm always reverts to whatever your inner animal is as its corporeal form. Harry's is Prongs because of his father, Tonks' changed into a werewolf because of Remus – "

_:-Yet another thing I share in common with that sneaky, thieving little witch,-: _Sirius muttered.

_:-Sirius, please don't.-:_

_:-Sorry, Moony.-:_

" – Snape's was a doe because of Lily Potter," Hermione continued, oblivious to the exchange. "But you and I, Ron, hadn't been that profoundly affected by a person yet, so ours were our inner animals. You're a Jack Russell, and I'm an otter."

"A Jack Russell?" Ron looked horrified. "Why couldn't I be a lion or an eagle or something cool like that?"

"Sirius and Remus say there is nothing wrong with being a canine, mate," Harry put in, his heart going out to his friend as he took in his deflated expression. "They say all the best people are."

_:-Hey!-:_

Ron brightened a little. "That's true. It's practically _traditional_ for Gryffindor males to be canines, right?"

_:-HEY!-: _James sounded very indignant.

"I might not go _that_ far," Harry said in amusement. "But you don't have anything to be ashamed of. Knowing my luck, I'll be an earthworm. Or a hedgehog."

_:-I used to have a hedgehog,-: _Remus volunteered. _:-He was marvellously cute. It's a good life being a hedgehog.-: _

"But it's not exactly heroic, is it?" Harry said. Then a horrible thought occurred to him. "Oh no! What if I'm a snake? I bet I'm a snake!"

"While this conversation is all well and good," Hermione interrupted. "Can I just remind everyone that we're _trying to plan a prison break_." Her voice was loud enough that Harry began to worry about someone overhearing them.

"Perhaps we should go back to Grimmauld to discuss this," he suggested. "A pub's not really the place, is it?"

The other two nodded and gulped down the rest of their drinks. They floo'd back to Harry's house and seated themselves round the kitchen table, armed with parchment and quills for drawing up plans.

_:-Perhaps start with the house-elf,-: _Lily suggested. _:-It needs to be able to pull off a believable performance as Malfoy.-:_

"Kreacher?" Harry called. There was a loud _pop_, and Kreacher appeared with a much smaller house-elf in tow. Harry had no idea how long house elves lived, but if Kreacher was ninety, this one looked to be just out of its teens. Its skin was smooth green, its massive eyes bright, and its pillowcase robe a cheerful blue. Kreacher, in comparison, looked as gnarled and crooked as an old oak tree.

"Master?" Kreacher bowed low. "Kreacher got one of the Malfoy house-elves. They have three, but Kreacher is thinking a small one is best for hiding under Master's invisibility cloak."

He gave the younger elf a pointed shove. It shuffled forward, tripping over the edge of its pillowcase.

"This is Bobsy, Master."

Harry smiled down at the little elf. "How are you, Bobsy?"

Bobsy stared at him blankly. He looked as though Harry had just asked him why the sky was blue or what kind of cheese the moon was made from. "Er...Bobsy is in good health to help his Master," he tried, looking terribly unnerved.

Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione. "Okay. Good. Um – has Kreacher told you what we want you to do?"

"Yes, Master. He said you want to rescue Master Draco from prison and let Bobsy take his place."

Harry winced at that. "Only if you want to," he said hastily. "You don't have to. I'm not your master. You don't have to obey me."

"Oh, Bobsy wants to!" the little elf said, his ears flapping as he nodded his head earnestly. "It's a pleasure for Bobsy to serve Master Draco." He sounded only slightly dubious about this last part.

"Good, good." Harry smiled and glanced towards the others. Hermione nodded to him to continue. "Okay. If you're going to do this, you need to be able to act like Mal...er...D-Draco. We need the prison guard and Aurors to believe that you are him when you are disguised in his body. Do you think you can do that?"

"Oh yes, Master! Bobsy can be Master Draco."

"Can we see?" Hermione put in, leaning down to his level.

Bobsy shot her a nervous look before clearing his throat and imperiously straightening his little pillowcase. His face took on an expression of agonised concentration, and his mouth moved for a few seconds as he worked his way up to say; "Hey you! Get Bob...er...me. Some. Proper. Soup! This. Muck. Tastes. Like. It's. Already. Been. Through. The. Digestive. System. Of. A. Blast. Ended. Nail!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Er." Harry tried not to snigger. "Good first try, Bobsy. I can see you obviously know your master very well. Perhaps try to liven it up a little. Remember the _tone_ that he uses. And I think you might mean a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

"Oh, Bobsy is sorry, Harry Potter!"

"No, it was really very good," Hermione said kindly. "It just takes practice to be that...um...imperious. Why don't you try again? Perhaps imagine how Mal-Draco would react to being in a tiny prison cell."

Bobsy nodded, cleared his throat, and one again twisted his face into an agony of creative composition. "What do you call this, _may _I ask?! Bob..._I_ wouldn't keep a _crup_ in a...a...dirty, unwashed hole like this!" Bobsy's face began to relax as he got into his flow. "And all these metal _bars_ everywhere? Do you know how _uncultured _bars are? Not a piece of marble _anywhere!_"

The little elf began to jig gleefully round the kitchen. He pointed an imperious finger at Kreacher. "Hey you – Mr. Guard! I demand that my prison robes be made of _silk_ and I demand they are handwashed. Do you _know _what clumsy house-elf magic does to silk? And what is this in my porridge?! Go and shut your ears in an _oven_!"

"What _is_ it about Malfoy house-elves?" Ron asked in a stunned voice as Bobsy continued to dart around the kitchen making spirited demands and complaints in an increasingly squeaky and imperious voice. "I've never heard of _any_ other house-elves that are so easily swayed to rebellion."

"It's true," Hermione agreed. They watched as Bobsy pointed out the flaws in the kitchen curtains and commented unfavourably on the colour scheme of the cabinets and the rug. "Do you know how hard SPEW volunteers work to persuade house-elves they don't have to live a life of servitude? And the Malfoys have two!"

Harry felt his lips twitch with amusement. "Maybe you should ask Malfoy for some tips when we rescue him?"

"I will do no such thing." Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "Have you _seen_ how they treat their house elves?"

"Well," Ron said, as Bobsy climbed onto the table and paraded around with his pointed little nose in the air while Kreacher watched with a horrified expression. "It's obviously not done them much lasting damage."

Harry tried not to show his amusement at Hermione's torn expression. "Okay, Bobsy!" he called, as the elf's squeaky voice began to reach a pitch that was high enough to melt his earwax. "I think that's enough practice now."

Bobsy blinked and stared down at Harry from his elevated position on the table. He looked slightly disappointed. "Bobsy did good, Harry Potter?"

"Very good. And just think – when you take Ma-Draco's place, you'll have to act like that all the time."

A dreamy expression crossed Bobsy's face. "Ooh! When are we going, sir?"

"As soon as we've got the Polyjuice and I've learned the spell for transforming your Master."

Bobsy's face lit up, and Harry couldn't help feeling smug at the fact he'd aided in corrupting yet another Malfoy house elf.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Are you sure you've got everything?" Hermione said, fussing round Harry as he stood by the living room fireplace. "Wand? Invisibility cloak? Polyjuice? Lock picks?" She looked ready to list everything right down to his underwear, so Harry reached out and covered her mouth with his hand.

"I've got everything, Hermione. You should know – you packed most of it."

"Don't stress," George added, guiding her gently away from Harry and depositing her next to Ron. "Harry'll be fine. He's done lots of stupider things that breaking ex-Death Eaters out of Ministry holding cells."

"Really not helping here," Harry said, turning to the fireplace and bracing himself. "Right. Bobsy, come on up."

The house elf scrambled up his back and clung like a little monkey around his neck.

"Invisibility cloak?"

Ron stepped forward and draped the cloak ceremoniously around Harry, causing him to disappear from view.

"I wish we were still little enough to fit under there with you!" Hermione was wringing her hands. Harry and never seen anyone actually wring their hands before. He'd always thought it was just a figure of speech.

"Relax," he said, trying to infuse confidence into his voice that he currently didn't really feel. "Technically there are now six of us under here. Between us we'll get in, get the git and get out. No problem."

George snorted. "There's your motto right there, mate. Get in, get the git, get out."

"Try saying that ten times fast," Ron added with rather tremulous joviality.

"Right, I'm off," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "If I hang around any longer I might vomit or something."

"Good luck," Hermione whispered, and George and Ron murmured their agreement as Harry stepped into the fireplace.

"All invisible?" He asked.

They nodded.

"Right then." He grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it down. "The Ministry of Magic!"

Green flames exploded around him and he spun away.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Harry stumbled out into the main Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. None of the harassed-looking Ministry workers glanced his way, which was a relief. They had deliberately chosen to do this at the end of the working day when most people had left, and the ones that remained were concentrating very hard on their work so that they could leave too. People daydreaming about dinner, an evening of the Wizarding Wireless, and a warm bed paid little attention to mysteriously flaming floos transporting invisible people, or the sound of footsteps where there were no feet.

He hurried towards the lift, his heart hammering with excitement. Now he was actually carrying out the plan, Harry felt as though he were in his element for the first time in years. This is what he did best – daring, overblown, likely-to-get-him-killed-or-arrested adventures with only his wand and his adrenaline between him and his goal.

_:-If I had any doubt before,-: _Lily commented, sounding resigned, _:-I know it for sure now. You are your father's son.-:_

_:-A proper Marauder,-: _Sirius agreed, sounding proud.

_:-And a true Gryffindor,-:_ Remus said, then ruined it slightly by adding, ­_:-I always wondered why the Sorting Hat chose to put me in a House where most of the members make important life decisions based on the fact that it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time-and-besides-doesn't-it-look-pretty-when-it-explodes-like-that?-: _

_:-You masterminded a fair few explosions in your time, Moony,-: _Sirius told him.

Harry sighed inwardly. _:-Guys, it's really not easy being sneaky and clever with you wittering on in my head like this.-: _

He sneaked into the empty lift behind another Ministry worker, hoping that the man was at least heading in the direction of the holding cells. Luckily, he was going down, and when he got out two floors later, Harry quickly hammered on the button to the lowest level and the doors slid shut just before another witch tried to enter. The lift felt big and intimidating when it only contained one person and one very small house elf. Harry suddenly became aware that Bobsy was trembling against his back, his little arms wrapped chokingly tight around Harry's neck.

"Are you okay, Bobsy?" Harry whispered, though there was really no chance of anyone hearing them while they were alone in the lift.

"Bobsy is afraid Harry Potter will be caught and Bobsy will fail in his task to help his Master."

Harry tried to gently loosen the house elf's arms around his windpipe. "It'll be fine, Bobsy. Trust me. I've done stuff like this lots of times before."

The lift rattled down further and further towards the lower levels of the Ministry. Harry muttered the many spells Hermione had drilled into him under his breath, feeling his heart rate pick up as the lift slowed to a halt and the doors slid open. He almost yelped in shock when he came face to face with two Auror guards.

"Well, that took a lot shorter time than usual," the chubbier one commented. "Usually it has to come down all the way from the Atrium at this time of day."

"Someone must have been getting off in the lower levels," said his companion, and Harry stumbled to the side as the man stepped briskly into the lift, followed by the chubby one.

Harry barely managed to slip out into the corridor in time, before the lift doors closed and it made its slow ascent back up to the Atrium.

In the corridor, the two Aurors who had replaced Chubby and Brisk for guard duty were opening the doors that led to the double cells one by one to check on their occupants. Harry hovered by the lift doors under his invisibility cloak, trying to keep as silent as possible as he watched the guards' progress.

_:-Oh dear,-: _Remus murmured. _:-Just our luck to come as the guards are changing. These new ones will be fresh and alert.-:_

_:-The upside is that they have just checked on all the prisoners and written it down in their log book,-: _Lily said. _:-If we take a while to get him out, it won't look like too long a time has passed before they perform the next check.-:_

Bobsy's arms had contracted painfully around Harry's neck again, though his trembling was mercifully silent.

The guards reached the last cell and signed off the prisoner check before one of them shrunk the log book and put it in his pocket.

_:-Ready, Harry?-: _James asked, his voice tinted yellow-gold with anticipation.

_:-Ready.-:_

Harry took a deep, silent breath, then poked the very tip of his wand out from under the cloak and released two stunning spells in quick succession. The Auror's didn't even have time to cry out in alarm before they collapsed to the floor.

_:-Very sloppy,-: _James commented, regarding the crumpled forms through Harry's eyes with contempt. _:-When I was an Auror we never would have got away with that. They would have had intruder-alert wards on this floor that would have warned of our presence, and each Auror would have cast person-sensing charms as soon as they came on duty to check all was clear.-:_

_:-To be fair,-: _Harry said_, :-I am wearing one of George's bracelets that prevents intruder-alert wards from picking up my presence.-:_

_:-Not the point.-: _James gave the mental impression of waving an airy hand. _:-There should have been wards there for us to have got past, and there weren't.-:_

_:-We were living in paranoid times,-: _Remus reminded him. _:-People have become lax over the last few years since Voldemort's defeat.-:_

_:-Well, they shouldn't have. That's probably how this whole thing with Crouch Junior and his exploding Dementors came about.-: _

_:-Guys, seriously,-: _Harry interrupted. _:-Really not the time.-:_

He approached the door to the Malfoys' cells and reached into his robe for his lock picks. He hoped he remembered all the instructions George had given him on the best way to pick magical locks.

_:-Er__,__-: _said Remus, waving a mental hand. _:-Can I make a suggestion?-:_

_:-What?-: _Harry asked irritably.

_:-Why don't you just borrow the keys out of the guard's pocket?-:_

There was a long, embarrassed pause. Remus sighed. _:-Gryffindors, the lot of you. I really don't know what the Sorting Hat was thinking, putting me there.-:_

_:-It was thinking 'I reckon those Gryffindor boys need a dose of morality, sexiness__,__ and common sense. I know! I'll give them Remus'__,__-: _said Sirius.

_:-Here goes,-:_ Harry interjected, having retrieved the bunch of keys. He gripped the key with the Malfoy's cell numbers on it and inserted it into the lock. He held his breath, but it clicked open easily.

_:-Bloody amateurs,-: _James muttered.

Harry stepped into the small section of floor in front of the magical glass wall that overlooked the two joined cells. His heart leapt with excitement as he spotted the Malfoys. They were sitting opposite one another on their respective beds, separated by the bars between their cells and eating a meal of what appeared to be soup and dry bread. Harry couldn't help noticing that when Malfoy wasn't feeling indignant or annoyed as he had been the last time, his whole body seemed to droop, his pointy, skinny limbs hanging off his curved torso like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He chewed dully on a piece of bread, and appeared to be studying a crude graffiti diagram of two naked figures in an incriminating position that he may or may not have been responsible for carving onto the back wall of his cell.

Narcissa Malfoy, to Harry's slight embarrassment, was peering through the bars of her son's cell and also looked to be studying the diagram. After a moment, she pointed an elegant finger to one of the more contorted legs of one of the figures and made what had to be derogatory comment, judging from her facial expression.

_:-Enough ogling, mate,-: _Sirius said, prodding Harry in the back of his mind. _:-Get on with it, why don't you?-:_

Harry nodded and approached the same section of the glass wall that Auror Ogburn had spelled the last time they were here. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the spell Hermione had managed to learn and put together after watching both their pensieve memories of his previous visit. Opening his eyes again, Harry began the chant, struggling not to allow his tongue to stumble over the Latin words. It took a lot longer than it had for Ogburn, but eventually Harry felt a surge of magic run through him and a doorway appeared in the wall.

"...don't care what you say, dear," Narcissa was saying. "If one is going to carve vulgar pictures into the wall of one's cell, one should at least have the decency to make sure they are anatomically accurate and physiologically possible."

"It's probably hard to be accurate when you're carving with a sharpened spoon," Malfoy pointed out. "Besides, the kind of person who would go to all the effort of - _Good Lord, not you again!_"

Harry had slipped both Bobsy and his Invisibility Cloak off his back, careful to keep the house elf covered until he could explain the situation. He walked up to Malfoy's cell. "Pleased to see me, Malfoy?"

"Oh yes, I'm delighted to be subjected to your gormless face and incompetent gloating for the second time in two weeks," Malfoy said sarcastically. "Where are your pet Aurors? Giving you a moment alone to confess your undying jealousy and devotion to my stunning good looks in comparison to your own knobbly knees?"

"Well at least I'm not the one who's eyeing up my rival's knees," Harry snapped.

"I could hardly miss them, Potter. I saw you and the Weasel down by the lake one summer. They look like two tennis balls stuffed down a pair of stockings."

"I've grown up since then!" Harry felt himself flushing in humiliation and anger. "They don't look like that anymore."

Malfoy smirked.

"Besides," Harry continued, "At least I'm not so pointy that I can't snog anyone for fear of slicing open their cheek with my nose."

"_Pointy_!" Malfoy looked outraged.

_:-Darling, remember why we're here,-: _Lily interjected.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "Listen, we don't have time for this."

"On the contrary, Potter," Malfoy said, stalking back to drop down on his narrow bed. "In case you hadn't noticed, I have all the time in the world. Why else would I have been reduced to discussing the physiological inaccuracies of pornographic graffiti with my own mother?"

Harry winced. "Whatever does it for you, Malfoy. I'm here to make you an offer."

Malfoy sat up and looked at him suspiciously. "An offer?"

"I'll break you out of prison in exchange for something."

"What on earth do I have that you would want? Aside from class, breeding, and a lack of Gryffindor oafishness, of course. But I'm afraid there's no way I could pass that on to anyone so uncultured."

"Ergh – as if I'd want that anyway." Harry rolled his eyes. "No – it's something your Aunt Bellatrix left you."

"_Bella_?" Narcissa interrupted sharply. "What is it?"

"Just a book," Harry said. "_Sacrum Obitus._"

Two sets of elegant eyebrows disappeared into blonde fringes.

"What on earth could you need with that old book of folk tale magic? Unless..." Narcissa's eyes flicked towards where Harry had appeared from. The Invisibility Cloak couldn't be seen as Bobsy was wearing it, but he saw sudden realisation in her eyes. "That's a very nice Invisibility Cloak you have there, Mr. Potter. Do you perhaps have a couple of equally impressive accessories to go with it?" Her eyes gleamed. "A precious stone, perhaps?"

_:-Great Merlin in a teacosy,-:_ James muttered_. :-I wish knife-sharp __intelligence had been__ bred out of your family along with the sanity, Padfoot.-:_

_:-Cissy always was too sharp for her own good__,__-: _Sirius agreed. _:-But she never knew when to shut up about it.-:_

Harry looked at her coldly, cursing himself for giving so much away. "It's not any of your business. I'm not offering to break _you_ out."

"I'm not going anywhere without my mother," Malfoy said quickly.

"Draco." Narcissa reached through the bars to touch his arm. "Go, if you can. One of us free is better than none. And once you're out, you could try to find a way to sort this whole mess out. We shouldn't have been here in the first place."

Harry swallowed his pride. "Please. I really need that book. And if you come with me, I'll help you come up with a way to free your mother as well."

"Why can't she come now?"

Harry hesitated. "Do you know what your inner animal form is?" he asked Narcissa.

She nodded slowly. "A narwhale."

"A what?"

"A narwhale. A type of whale that lives in cold climates. A beautiful creature, but ultimately fairly useless as an Animagus form. That's why I never bothered to become one."

Harry turned back to Malfoy. "Her Animagus form is too large. She couldn't come even if we wanted to free her."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"If you agree to my deal, you'll see."

"I don't want to live my life on the run, thank you." Malfoy crossed his arms. "As soon as they find out I'm gone, they'll send Dementors after me or something. They'll think I've gone to join that nutter, Crouch."

"They won't know you've gone."

"What?" both Malfoys said together.

"Do you agree to the deal?"

Narcissa and Malfoy shared a long look. Then Narcissa bowed her head, and Malfoy turned back to Harry, sticking his hand through the bars. "Very well. If you can get me out of here with no one knowing, I will get that book for you."

"Swear it?"

"I swear on my magic."

Harry took the slim hand and shook it. "Let's get you out of there then. Bobsy!"

The invisibility cloak fell to the floor in a pool of silvery fabric, and Malfoy gaped. "That's our house-elf!"

"No one else would agree to take your place here, Malfoy. You really don't have many friends."

"Shut up."

"Can you get through the bars, Bobsy?" Harry gestured to the cell, and the house-elf nodded eagerly. It was a close fit, but he just managed to squeeze through with Malfoy tugging him from the other side. Had he even been Kreacher's size he wouldn't have managed to squeeze through.

"Why can't he just Apparate in?" Malfoy asked. "He uses house-elf magic, not human."

"House-elf wards," Harry said absently as he began pulling vials of altered Polyjuice from his pockets and unshrinking them. "Too many of these prisoners are purebloods with house-elves who might try to rescue them."

Bobsy grinned smugly and hugged Malfoy's legs.

"You're lucky I'm so filthy," Malfoy told him. "I cannot be contaminated any further. Release me, you over-emotional little creature."

Bobsy obeyed, the harsh tone seeming to bounce off him. Harry was glad Hermione wasn't taking part in the rescue, as he had a strong suspicion she might have left Malfoy to rot at that comment.

"Now what?" Narcissa asked curiously.

Harry grinned. He was going to enjoy the next bit. "Come here, Malfoy."

Malfoy eyes his wand suspiciously. "Why? What are you going to do."

"We need a nice hefty chunk of your hair. For the Polyjuice Potion."

Malfoy clutched his hair in alarm. "No way, Potter! There's no way I'm letting you, of all people, anywhere near my hair. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Yours is a nightmare."

"Polyjuice Potion won't work on a house-elf, you stupid boy," Narcissa added, sitting down on the edge of her own bed and dropping her head into her hands. "Merlin forbid we trust a Gryffindor to make a working plan for a prison break."

"I'll have you know," Harry said to her indignantly, "that my godfather was responsible for the most infamous and impressive prison break of all time. And he was a Gryffindor."

"As if you have to remind me," Narcissa muttered. "My cousin was a shame on all the family."

_:-I was the shame on the family?-: _Sirius said indignantly. _:-All the rest of you are either dead or in prison.-:_

"_And_," Harry continued, choosing to ignore his godfather, "I'm not stupid. This Polyjuice has been altered by George Weasley to work on house-elves."

"I'm being rescued from prison with the aid of a Weasley product? Kill me now."

Harry glared at him. "I don't remember being averse to using their products to break Death Eaters into Hogwarts."

Draco had the grace to look ashamed.

"I apologise, Mr. Potter," Narcissa added, looking as though the words were making her physically ill as she said them. "I shouldn't have judged you. And I'll cut Draco's hair if you pass me your wand. At least allow him to maintain some decency, please."

Harry hesitated.

"Mr. Potter, there is nothing I can do to you from within this cell. They have wards up. The only way I could hurt you would be if you put your hand through the bars."

_:-Do it, Harry. She may be a cold, irritating, arrogant witch, but she's a woman of her word,-: _Sirius advised.

Harry sighed and passed his wand through the bars.

"How much do you need?"

"Enough for all these vials. George made the potion six times as potent as ordinary Polyjuice. I know it doesn't look like much, but this should be enough for at least six months of disguise. Hopefully we will have talked the Ministry into letting you go before then. Bobsy only needs to take a small sip in the morning and one in the evening."

"Come here, Draco."

Malfoy reluctantly moved to the wall of bars separating him from his mother and submitted to a haircut. Harry felt an unexpected stab of pity when he saw the way his jaw tightened and his forehead creased into an expression that was genuinely upset. He took the locks of rather greasy blonde hair from Narcissa and dropped them one by one into the vials before corking them again. He passed them through to Bobsy, who had made a tiny tear in the lumpy mattress of Malfoy's bed and was stowing them among the stuffing so they didn't clink.

"They don't really come inside the cells that much," Narcissa assured him. "Part of their guilt at locking us up when we're technically innocent, I think. When they need us, they just drag us out." She handed Harry back his wand.

When Bobsy got to the last vial, he opened it and took a small sip. He corked it again just in time, because in the next few seconds it fell from his little hand and he doubled up with a groan. Then he began to swell. His skin seemed to melt and stretch, becoming a rather pale, sickly green which lightened and flushed a pink. Blonde hair sprouted from the swelling head and long, slender limbs emerged rapidly from the stretched and ripping pillowcase Bobsy wore.

It was only a matter of about thirty seconds before an identical, panting, and very naked Draco Malfoy slowly straightened and turned to face the others.

"I think I'm going to puke," Draco muttered. "For Salazar's sake, Bobsy, put some clothes on!"

"Bobsy doesn't want to!" the identical Dracoo said, his eyes filling up with tears. "Bobsy doesn't want to be given clothes by his Master! Bobsy doesn't want to be free!"

"I'll give them to you," Harry said, grabbing the ugly grey prison robe Draco handed him. "I can't set you free."

"Oh, thank you, Harry Potter!" The uncharacteristic look of tearful, pathetic gratefulness on the familiar pointed face, along with the gaunt, undernourished limbs and clearly evident bruises did something strange to Harry's insides. His eyes hovered on a large, purple-black bruise that spread over the fake Malfoy's hip bone and down his thigh, as though he'd been tossed roughly onto a stone floor and kicked.

_:-Great Godric, the poor lad,-: _Remus murmured.

"_Eyes up_, Potter. That's my body you're gawking over. Kindly look away, you perverted, puff-haired oaf."

Harry glanced away, flushing, as Bobsy undertook the unfamiliar task of donning proper clothing. He met the real Malfoy's defiant, humiliated gaze. "Say a word, Potter, and I swear I'll –"

"I won't say anything," Harry promised quickly. "I promise."

"See that you don't." Malfoy huffed. "Now, the elf is in. How do I get out?"

Harry grinned. "That's the fun part."

Before the other young man could react, Harry thrust his hand through the bars of his cell and cast the Animagus transformation spell. The wand movement was a bit difficult with his arm trapped between the bars, but Harry managed it, and in a transformation that was much quicker than Bobsy's, Malfoy's form blurred, shrunk, and lightened, until a small, white ferret crouched on the floor where he'd been, its grey eyes wide with shock.

"Forced Animagus transfiguration," Harry told him cheerfully. "I hate to break it to you, Malfoy, but your inner animal is a ferret. I can't say I was that surprised when I worked it out. Come on out. We've really got to go. We've been here way longer than we should have, and someone might come down to check on things soon."

"You'd better be able to change him back, Mr. Potter," Narcissa said dangerously.

"I assure you, I am more than able," Harry told her. "If you won't take my word for it, then remember that I will need him in human form to get me that book."

Malfoy-the-ferret slunk awkwardly through the bars, obviously uneasy in his new form. His body quivered, and his little white ears lay flat against his head. If Harry were truthful with himself, he couldn't help thinking that Malfoy as a ferret was disturbingly cute.

When Harry reached out to pick him up, Malfoy backed away hurriedly.

"How else do you think you'll get out, you idiot?" Harry snapped. "Come on! Look, I'll just put you in my pocket."

He indicated the large pocket Hermione had magically sewn onto the front of his shirt. The ferret's head drooped in resignation, and Harry reached out to pick him up as gently as he could. He couldn't help thinking of the bruises he'd seen on Bobsy's borrowed body, and he could feel the sharp outline of Malfoy's ribcage through the fine white fur.

Harry dropped him into his pocket and received a sharp nip on his fingers in retaliation.

_:-Do you mind if I take over here?-: _Remus asked. _:-I'm better at memory modification charms than you, and those guards are going to need a bit of work.-:_

_:-Are you sure?-: _Harry asked. _:-I have been practising the right wand movement and everything.-:_

_:-Seriously, mate,-: _Sirius said, _:-Moony is the king of memory charms. He could do them in first year at school.-:_

_:-First year?-: _Harry was aghast. _:-They're NEWT level stuff.-:_

_:-When you have a secret as big as mine, you make sure you can protect it if you need to.-: _Remus's voice was quiet, but matter-of-fact. _:-_Obliviate_ was the first spell I ever learned. I got it from a book I stole from my father's study the summer before I came to Hogwarts.-:_

Harry shook his head. "Alright, Malfoy?" he asked, looking down at the pointy, disgruntled little face peering out of his pocket. "Alright, Bobsy?"

"Alright, Harry Potter," Bobsy said, waving from the cell. "Bobsy won't let you down, Master!" He seemed a lot more confident now he had helped to free Malfoy.

"Then let's get this show on the road," Harry said and swung the Invisibility Cloak over his head and shoulders.

_:-Over to you, Remus. Memory modification, lift, and__ out. We'll be home by dinnertime. I can't believe this actually worked.-:_

_:-Nor I,-: _Remus admitted, taking over.

"Draco?"

Remus turned Harry's body to look at Narcissa and Malfoy peered at her from over the edge of the pocket.

"You know the Slytherin way. Run while you can and live to get revenge. I love you, my dragon. Take care of yourself."

The ferret nodded, and Remus stepped out.

Harry was content. He was one step closer to having his family back for real.


	13. Onion Dip and Werewolves

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world were invented by JK Rowling. Not me. Unfortunately. **

**A/N: Sorry about the lengthy wait. Starting a new job does that, unfortunately. Hope this chapter was worth the wait. **

**M x**

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**Werewolves and Onion Dip**

When Harry Apparated into the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, he was met by three bared wands. Two were pressed to his throat, and one was aimed almost directly over the pocket where Malfoy in his ferret form resided.

Harry flung up one arm in surrender, while curving the other one round the trembling ferret. "Guys! It's me."

The wands wavered, but didn't lower.

"Prove it," Hermione said.

Harry sighed. "Well, first off, no one else could Apparate in here."

"Someone could have taken the wards down," Ron pointed out. "if they caught you breaking in to free The Git. They could be trying to find your co-conspirators."

"And you've been so successful at hiding your involvement," Harry muttered. The wands didn't move. "Fine, fine. Let me think." It was strange, Harry thought, that as soon as he was told to think of something only he and his friends knew, his mind went blank. It was like the moment when someone hands someone a microphone and says 'Say something', and they promptly forget every word in the English language except the rude ones.

"What was the short version of our 'Operation Break Out Malfoy' plan?" George suggested.

"Oh, I know this one," Harry said with relief. "Get in, Get the Git, Get Out. _Ow!_" He jammed his hand in the pocket sewed to the front of his shirt, yanked out the white ferret, and dropped it on the table. "He _bit_ me!"

The ferret chattered furiously as Harry lifted his shirt and examined the mark on his stomach.

"Vicious little bugger isn't he?" George said cheerfully, as he, Ron and Hermione lowered their wands. "I don't suppose you'll tell me why I spent a ton of valuable work hours designing a potion to break him out, now?"

"Sorry, George," said Harry, with pang of guilt. "It has to be a secret for now." _Or at least until I'm sure you're not entirely insane._

Ron prodded the ferret on the table with a dirty spoon from the sink. "Are you sure this is Malfoy? It doesn't look pointy enough."

Malfoy gave an enraged squeak and took a bite out of Ron's thumb before he had time to move it. Harry only just caught Ron's wrist before he batted the little animal off the table.

"Damn it, Ron!"

"What?"

"A fall like that could break his spine," Hermione put in, her voice quiet. "The injury would be permanent. He could be paralysed. You just don't _think_ sometimes, love."

Ron went pale and withdrew his hand (as the ferret shuddered in disgust at Hermione's use of endearment). No matter what else anyone said about Ron, Harry knew he would never intentionally injure another person – even one as annoying as Malfoy.

Harry released Ron's wrist and dropped into a chair at the table. "God, I'm exhausted. Change The Git back, will you, Hermione?"

"Why bother?" Ron asked, still nursing his thumb which was bleeding profusely. "Can't we keep him in a cage until we need him? We can feed him on the dead mice Crookshanks catches."

"The mice Crookshanks catches here would probably poison him," George pointed out.

Since Ron and Hermione had decided to spend the holiday with Harry at Grimmauld, Hermione had brought Crookshanks. Some of the mice he caught in the house had been living with the taint of magic for generations. A nest of four that had been unearthed in one of the spare bedrooms each had eight legs. Three from the cellars were purple. Ron swore that one he saw Crookshanks catching in the attic had breathed fire.

Malfoy stiffened at Ron's words and swung round to stare at Harry with a panicked expression. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Because, Ron Weasley, that would be barbaric," she said primly. "It's the kind of thing Death Eaters would do. You can't turn a human being into an animal against their will and then refuse to turn them back."

Ron flung up his hands in defeat, splattering a nearby kitchen dresser with blood. "Fine! Just don't expect me to pander to his needs. And will someone please heal this. I'm beginning to feel light headed. You don't think he has rabies, do you?"

George grabbed his arm and examined the wound while Hermione pointed her wand at the ferret who still crouched on the table. Malfoy backed away hurriedly, stumbling over his little feet and landing with a light thump on his side.

"She's just turning you back, you idiot," Harry told him. "Keep still."

Hermione muttered the spell and Mafoy's shape blurred, stretched and grew, until there was a thin, haunted-looking young man crouched in the place of a ferret.

There was silence in the kitchen as the five occupants studied one another warily. Eventually George cleared his throat.

"Right, well, I must be off. Left that incompetent Boris Shortfellow in charge of the shop. Enjoy your reunion with The Ferret."

Harry spared him a tight smile. "Yeah, thanks, George. We couldn't have done this without you."

"Well, feel free to tell me what 'this' is anytime, and maybe I can help more." He sounded slightly injured, and Harry felt another stab of guilt. "Later, then." He disappeared with a pop.

Harry forced a smile in the direction of Malfoy who still crouched on the kitchen table in a remarkably ferret-like manner. "How about I show you to your room?"

Malfoy gave a stiff nod and carefully climbed off the table. As he moved towards the door, he sneered at Ron and Hermione, who seemed to have decided to follow the 'If You Can't Say Anything Nice, Don't Say Anything At All' philosophy and had thus been struck mute.

Harry grimaced as he led Malfoy up the stairs to the second floor. It was going to be a long couple of weeks if the four of them couldn't reach some kind of understanding. He reached the top of the stairs and started across the landing.

"For Salazar's sake, Potter, at least have the decency to slow down a bit."

Harry turned round in surprise to see Malfoy slumped against the wall at the top of the stairs, a thin sheen of sweat gracing his forehead.

"Are you ill?" he asked, his stomach sinking. What the hell would he do if Malfoy required a Healer?

_:-You would let me take over,-:_ Lily told him. _:-I did a year of Healer training before I was needed to work for the Order full time.-:_

_:-You did?-: _Harry's eyebrows rose. _:-No one told me that!-:_

_:-There were a lot of things we never had the time to tell you,-: _Remus murmured.

"I'm fine," Malfoy said curtly, in answer to Harry's question. "Just unfit. I've been locked in a cell for months."

He shoved himself away from the wall and walked toward Harry with the careful gait of someone concentrating on each step. Harry suddenly remembered how clumsy and uncoordinated ferret-Malfoy had been. Perhaps it hadn't just been adjusting to new limbs.

"Stop gawking, Potter. Every time I see that gormless look on your face I feel my brain melt a little more. I think it must be contagious."

Harry flushed and swung round to face away from his old rival. He stalked up the corridor towards the room Kreacher had prepared, wishing he could slap Malfoy's smug face.

"Here it is," he said, his voice curt as he pushed open the door. The bedroom was a fair size, containing some of the less homicidal furniture scrounged from around the house. Kreacher – who'd never managed to shake his admiration of the Malfoy family - had apparently tried to match the woods, because most of it was made from dark, polished oak which stood out starkly from the newly Magnolia walls. One of the Black's many green-curtained (and doxie-free) four-posters dominated most of the room, a trunk at its end. A wardrobe stood to one side containing a few clothes Hermione had reminded Harry that Malfoy would need, and an upholstered loveseat stood beneath the windowsill. It was a little stark and impersonal, though Kreacher had tried to cheer it up by hanging a picture of a rainy Welsh seascape on the far wall – an effort doomed to failure from the start.

Malfoy approached rather unsteadily, and peered inside. His mouth dropped open. "It's a bedroom."

"What were you expecting?" Harry snapped. "A suite of rooms for yourself? You're going to have to outgrow your expensive tastes now you're a wanted criminal."

Malfoy turned to stare at him. It was the least hostile expression he had ever directed at Harry, though this was possibly because there was no space left for it around the look of shock. "I thought you'd be locking me in – you know – some sort of cell."

Harry wondered if his expression now matched Malfoy's. "A cell? What would be the point of breaking out of one prison, just to be locked in a different one?"

_:-That's what I always wanted to know,-: _Sirius put in. Harry ignored him.

"I thought you would hold me prisoner here until I got you that book, then toss me out."

"Toss you out? Where would you go? The Ministry will get suspicious if they see you wandering round the streets when you're supposed to be locked up."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's the whole _point_, Potter. You're not supposed to care!"

"But, much as I dislike you, I'm responsible for breaking you out."

Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it, looking nonplussed. Eventually he shook his head, slumping a little more against the doorframe. "Whatever. I'm going to get some sleep. You can bugger off." He shoved past Harry, stumbled across the room, and dropped down onto the bed.

Harry hovered uncertainly in the doorway, unable to miss the way the edges of Malfoy's mouth were tight with pain or exhaustion, his skin even more translucent that normal. An image of the bruises Harry had seen littering Malfoy's body rose in his mind.

_:-Seriously, mate,-: _Sirius said. _:-Why do you care?-:_

_:-He's a guest in my home. Aunt Petunia didn't teach me much, but as long as her guests weren't 'freaks' like me, she always treated them well, even if she didn't like them.-:_

_:-Who cares what that vile woman did?-: _

_:-She learned that from our mother,-: _Lily said quietly. _:-She always believed one had a duty to care for those visiting one's home. No matter who they were. I don't know how Petunia could have ignored that rule when it came to our son.-:_

"Why are you still here, Potter?" Malfoy demanded.

"Er...dinner's at seven."

"I'm not hungry. Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

Harry's muscles ached with the effort it took not to leap across the room and pummel Malfoy's pointy face into a more two-dimensional shape.

"Right." He shut the door with deliberate care.

_:-Still feel like treating him like__ an honoured guest?-: _Sirius asked dryly.

_:-Don't let him make you act as rude as he is,:- _Lily said.

Harry rolled his eyes.

_:-I'm serious - don't say anything, Black - it really bugs Slytherins when you carry on being pleasant even after they've used their worst insults on you. It makes them think you've won, or that you're immune. I learned that from Severus when I was a little girl.-:_

_:-Are you telling me that actually works?-: _James sounded contemplative.

_:-I promise it does.-:_

_:-So all this time I've been insulting Snivellus and I should have been inviting him round for tea?-: _Sirius asked.

There was a short pause as they all tried to fit this unlikely scenario into their heads.

_:-...Yes?-: _Lily tried.

_:-Cool. I'll remember that if he ever comes back from the dead.-:_

Harry started back downstairs. _:-You know. Half a year ago I would have taken that as a joke.-:_

When he reached the kitchen, Harry asked Kreacher to take up a plate for Malfoy. He hoped Lily knew what she was talking about.

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Harry had planned on putting together 'Operation Get the Git into his Bank Vault Undetected' over the next few days. Unfortunately, the day after he'd rescued Malfoy, he woke up with the full moon weighing like lead on his bones and twitching like biting ants all over his skin.

Harry had lived through four full moons since he had discovered his family living in his head, and each month they were getting worse and worse. Remus's wolf, which didn't change his body, but did change his mind, became more and more savage the longer it found itself locked in a cage of frail human flesh, unable to escape at the full moon.

Unfortunately, the effect of being in a human body with a human brain was making the wolf more intelligent as well. It had already discovered its new opposable thumbs, and Harry feared it was only a matter of time before it discovered the deep reservoir of his magic. This month, he, Ron and Hermione had decided to chain him up in the basement to prevent further injury and exploration.

Remus, over these times, was inconsolable; his mind torn up by both guilt and the wolf for days following the full moon. His thoughts became simplified and childlike, etched deeply with a misery that he couldn't comprehend in his condition. Padfoot prowled and whimpered in the back of Harry's mind, helpless to do anything to aid him in his recovery.

Over the two days before the full moon, Malfoy had remained shut up in his room, being brought meals by Kreacher and emerging only to use the toilet. Ron and Hermione hovered nervously around Harry, trying not to say too much in case he snapped at them.

Unfortunately, it was on the evening of the full moon itself that Malfoy finally decided to emerge from his self-imposed confinement and make his way down to the kitchen. Harry was been sitting at the table examining the chains and cuffs Hermione had transfigured for him (having found the spell in a book from the Black library that she refused to show to Harry and Ron, (something that caused Sirius to snigger in the back of Harry's head).

He looked up when the door opened, expecting to see one of his friends, and felt his heart sink when he caught sight of Malfoy's blonde head instead.

Malfoy's eyes flickered from Harry's moon-trembling hands, to the chains on the table, to his drawn, sweaty face, to the open cellar door, and then to the darkening sky outside.

"Unless you, Granger, and the Weasel are about to have kinky sex in an effort to cure you from a dreadful case of wizard's flu," the Slytherin drawled, "I'd say someone's favourite canine Professor got too close to his pet student on a night when the moon was nice and full. Am I right?"

_:-Too clever for his own good. Just like his mother,-: _Sirius muttered.

"I have no idea," Harry mumbled to Malfoy, having neither the energy or the inclination to pick through the other young man's convoluted declaration to make any sense of it. "Very possibly." He leant over the self-cleaning bucket on the seat beside him and vomited.

"You're a werewolf?" Malfoy sounded as though he couldn't decide whether to be shocked, terrified or gloating.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" Harry snapped. "Scared?"

"You wish, dogbreath."

_:-Oh, very original,-: _Remus murmured rather deliriously. _:-Like I haven't heard that one before.-:_

_:-Oh, come on, Moony,-: _Sirius whined _:-It was all in the spirit of fun.-:_

_:-Like you were one to talk anyway,-: _James added _:-You are the ultimate dogbreath, mate. Remember the time you ate that rabbit we found rotting under the Ravenclaw stands. I swear no one sat near you for weeks.-:_

_:-Let it never be said that I'll back out of a dare – no matter how vile or degrading.-:_

Harry whimpered and laid his head in his hands, trying not to wish his family had chosen someone else's head to inhabit.

"If you eat me, my ghost will wreak revenge on you until the end of time," Malfoy said, pawing through the pantry and emerging with a giant wedge of treacle sponge.

"I'm hardly going to escape the chains," Harry snapped. "And that's my cake. Put it back."

Malfoy swaggered over to Harry and deliberately took a massive bite. He chewed with his mouth open, displaying the half-masticated treacle sponge in a gloating manner.

Harry leant forward and vomited on the pureblood's shoes. Satisfaction briefly overtook his pain as Malfoy shrieked like a girl, choked on his cake, suffered an extended coughing fit and then tripped over one of Harry's chains on the way to get a glass of water.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the way Malfoy's shoes squelched as he stomped out of the kitchen, the air around him blistered with expletives as he made his way back upstairs too his room.

When night fell, Harry forgot all about Malfoy and his histrionics as he made his way down to the basement and allowed Hermione and Ron to chain him to the wall.

Ten minutes later, the moon rose in a rush of bloodlust and violence.

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Harry awoke to a bone-deep ache all over his body, with the hot, raw pain of open wounds circling his wrists and ankles where the wolf had fought to get free. The chains had obviously worked as he didn't feel nearly as battered as he had the previous full moon. In spite of this, he couldn't bring himself to move, and he lay still with his eyes closed as his mind returned to full consciousness.

_:-Everyone okay?-:_ he asked, directing the thought to his family who were huddled in the back of his mind.

_:-Moony's not so good,-: _James answered, emerging to the forefront of Harry's mind to talk to him. _:-We've got to find a way to get us bodies soon, or it's only going to get worse.-:_

_:-Why?-:_Harry asked. _:Surely it's better when he'd not actually changing into the wolf?-;_

_:-It's not like that__.__-: _James moved restlessly around Harry's head as he sought a way to explain. _:-It's like...-:_

_:-Dip,-: _Sirius interjected.

There was an uncertain silence from everyone in Harry's head.

_:-Yeah,-: _Sirius's voice was musing. _:-Like dip at parties that you eat with crisps and carrot sticks and things. It comes in those little containers with separate compartments so they don't all mix together. Now if you picture Remus as being onion dip – -:_

_:-Hey,-: _Remus protested, his mental presence stirring weakly. Sirius pressed close to him.

_:-Hush, Moony, I'm in explaining mode. As I was saying, Remus is onion dip, and the wolf is...er...-:_

_:-Spicy tomato salsa,-: _Lily suggested.

_:-Right, spicy tomato salsa, and their body was the container with the little compartments. Remus's human body was one compartment, and the wolf's body was the other. Now that they don't have the bodies to separate them, the onion dip and the salsa is beginning to merge together at the edges and that's why it's taking him longer and longer to recover.-:_

_:-I'm not sure I'm finding this comparison very flattering,-: _Remus murmured, his mind voice slightly slurred. Harry guessed he'd only just recovered his mind.

_:-But whenever Remus dies for real he's going to lose his body anyway. No matter what I do.-: _Harry felt sick at the thought of Remus losing his soul to the wolf.

_:-The wolf was docile on the other side of the veil,-: _James said. _Remus didn't suffer at all when he was properly dead. It's only become wild and vicious again since we've come back – not that Remus was away for very long.-:_

_:-The wolf was still there in heaven?-: _Harry thought that was incredibly unfair considering the way Remus had suffered on earth fighting for good.

_:-The wolf IS Remus, Harry,-: _Sirius explained. _:-Remus has been a werewolf since he was five years old.-:_

_:-I wouldn't know what to do without him,-: _Remus's mental voice was thin and wispy. _:-The wolf is a large part of who I am. If we were separated, I don't think I would survive with my sanity intact, any more than I will if he takes me over.-:_

_:-With a body you would be completely separate again?-: _Harry asked.

_:-Never completely separate, but enough. I've always been closer to my wolf than other werewolves. When I was younger, something happen to me that broke down a little of the barrier between me and the wolf.-:_

_:-Put a crack in the dip container-: _Sirius put in. _:-It meant it took a bit of time for him to recover his mind after the moon.-:_

_:-I hated it when I was younger.-: _said Remus_. :-I was always so humiliated by the childish way I acted. But I think it was a good thing overall. Most werewolves don't survive for as long as I did. They fight against the wolf so hard, they end up tearing themselves apart. Being that close to the wolf gave me an understanding__ of how he worked. I could control him better. The only other werewolves that had developed that kind of understanding and lived that long are the ones that deliberately let the wolf take over and turn feral. Like Fenrir Greyback.-:_

Harry was about to ask what had happened to Remus that caused the crack in his barrier, but was distracted but the sound of someone sniffing from the world outside his head. He felt his whole body tense up painfully in defence.

_:-I wouldn't worry,-: _Lily assured him. _:-It's just Malfoy. He's been hanging round your room ever since Madame Pomfrey left..-:_

_:-He has?-:_ Harry fought to open his eyes. _:-Why?-:_

_:-We don't know,-: _James said_. :-Lily wouldn't let us take over your body.-:_

_:-How unreasonable,-: _Lily murmured. 

Harry braced himself and forced his eyes open. His limbs gave an involuntary twitch and he couldn't quite repress a groan of pain. There was blur of movement to his left and he turned his head and squinted to see Malfoy leaning towards him from the armchair beside his bed.

"Here." His glasses were shoved into his hand.

"Ergh!" Harry shoved them clumsily on his nose, wincing as his strained muscles ached in protest. "What're you doing here?"

"The bite went wrong, didn't it?"

"Y'what?" Harry blinked rapidly, his exhausted brain grinding into gear.

"When Lupin bit you. Something went wrong, didn't it?"

_:-What's he talking about?-: _Harry whined silently.

"Don't look at me like that, Potter. And close your mouth – your breath stinks."

Harry snapped his mouth shut, then opened it again and breathed heavily in Malfoy's direction. It was childish, but he felt the situation had called for it. Malfoy made a face and leaned back.

"I know something went wrong," Malfoy continued smugly, not put off by Harry's response. "You don't change properly, do you?"

Harry gaped. "How do you know that?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"I could hear you, you fool. You were...screaming." For the first time Malfoy's smug mask cracked, and Harry saw a slightly haunted look underneath. "All night you were screaming and screaming. If you didn't want me to hear, you should have told those idiot friends of yours to put up a silencing charm."

"W-well." Harry scrabbled around for something to say. "Being a werewolf hurts."

"You were _screaming_, Potter. Screaming, not howling. You sounded human. I lived with Greyback in my house for long enough to know what a werewolf's howl sounds like."

Groaning, Harry pulled his covers over his head and waved his hand dismissively in Malfoy's direction. "Bugger off and let me die in peace, you pointy-nosed git."

"That's what the book is for, isn't it?" Malfoy sounded rather gleeful at his own cleverness. "There is some old, forgotten recipe in there to fix you. It doesn't take a genius to work out that a human mind can't put up with the wolf living in its head over full moon."

"Dips," Harry mumbled.

_:-Smart-arse.-: _Sirius muttered. _:-Kid needs his brain neutering. He's so sharp he's going to cut himself.-: _

"Wolfsbane potion won't work for you, will it?" Malfoy continued, apparently deciding to ignore Harry's comment. "It's poisonous for full humans. You can't risk it."

Harry flung the covers back from his head. "Does this conversation have a point, Malfoy? Because right now, all you're doing is telling me a lot of stuff I already know, and I'm experiencing a strong desire to puke on your shoes again."

Malfoy backed up hurriedly. "You need me," he blurted.

"I what?"

_:-You neeeeeeeeeeeeeed him,-: _Sirius drawled, his voice dripping with sexual innuendo.

_:-If you don't shut up, I'm going to trap you in a never-ending loop of my memories of Snape's Potions classes.-:_

_:-Great Godric, Harry__.__-: _James sounded shocked. _:-That's a bit harsh, isn't it?-:_

"You need me. The solution to your problem will most likely be a potion, and I know ,more about Dark potions than you or Granger ever will, regardless of how you managed to claw your way into respectability in sixth year."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Shut up. The point is, you have to protect me and let me stay here as long as I need, even after I get you that book because I could be of use to you."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I told you I would do that anyway, remember?"

"Anyone can _say_ those things. I have no reason to believe you'd keep your word. If I promise to help you with potions, you have to promise to protect me from the Ministry, and to help me free my mother."

Harry stared at him for a few seconds. Then he shook his head. "Whatever. Fine, I promise to do all that stuff if you promise to do all that stuff. Deal? Now sod off and let me sleep."

"Shake on it."

"For Heaven's sake, Malfoy, if you don't want to spend the rest of the day as a ferret, you'll leave now! I'm exhausted. Get out of here."

Malfoy backed away towards the door. He paused as he reached for the handle. "You look like hell, Potter. You're going to have to fix this soon. If your mind merges with the wolf, then – "

"I _know!_ Okay? I know. It's all merging onion dip and tomato salsa insanity. I get it. Why do you think I'm in such a hurry? Tell someone to bring me a pain potion when you get downstairs will you?"

"Get your own damn potion," Malfoy snapped. He slammed the door.

Five minutes later, Kreacher popped up at Harry's bedside, a pain potion in his gnarled hand.


	14. Operation Get the Git into Gringotts

**Operation Get**** the Git into Gringotts**

"Harry, mate, I'm sorry to do this to you so soon after the full moon, but you need to know the Kneazle's out the bag."

Harry, who had just staggered downstairs for breakfast, stared at Ron blearily. "What Kneazle? What bag? What are you talking about?"

There was a snort from Malfoy who was sitting at the breakfast table sipping coffee. He turned the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he was reading so Harry could see the headlines.

**BOY WHO LIVES TURNING TO THE DARK SIDE?**

**Harry Potter takes on post of Head of Slytherin House. **

Harry groaned and dropped into a chair at the table. The pigeons Padfoot was chasing in the moving picture above the fireplace fluttered up in a flurry of grey wings. "This is all I need right now."

"You knew it would happen." Hermione came over and placed a bowl of porridge in front of him. The way it bubbled and sucked malevolently at the spoon led Harry to suspect that Ron had been responsible for cooking that morning. "You knew how people were going to react if you took the post."

"I'm going to have to get hold of Luna, then," Harry said, pushing the porridge aside and dropping his head onto the table. "Arrange an interview or something."

"I don't understand," Malfoy complained, scanning the article. "Why on earth would anyone make a blundering Gryffindor idiot like you Head of Slytherin?"

"Because the Sorting Hat wanted to put me there," Harry said.

"Because it's about time Slytherins weren't ostracised from the rest of polite society," Hermione said.

"Because no one else would do it," Ron said.

"_Polite_ society?" Malfoy drew himself up indignantly. "If you mean the idiots at the Ministry and the oiks in the streets, then there's no way they can be labelled as _polite_."

_:-Does anyone else feel he's focussing on the wrong part of that revelation_?-: Lily asked.

"Hang on!" Malfoy swung round to stare at Harry. "What do you mean the Sorting Hat wanted to put you into Slytherin?"

_:-There it is,-:_ said Lily with satisfaction. _:-It just took a while for it to work its way past the barrier of instinctive upper-class superiority.-:_

"I asked it not to," Harry told Malfoy. "After meeting you, in fact. Are you sure this is edible?" he added to Ron, as his porridge glooped at him ominously.

"The Ferret ate it," Ron told him.

He, Harry and Hermione turned to Malfoy, searching for any signs of imminent death by porridge.

_:-He does look a bit peaky,-:_ Remus observed.

_:-Nah,-: _Sirius said, _:-He always looks like that, the pointy git.-:_

Malfoy stared at the three of them with dawning horror. "Did you _poison_ me, Weasley?"

"Not deliberately!"

"Oh, and that makes it all better, does it? I'll just have my mother write on my gravestone: '_Beloved Son – Poisoned By The Incompetence Of Gryffindors, So That's All Right Then_' shall I?"

"I reckon she's more likely to write _Good Riddance_," Ron said. "Or maybe _Never Mind, He Was An Accident Anyway. _I can't think anyone would have had you on purpose."

Malfoy swung round and grabbed Harry's arm, his fingers digging in painfully. "If I die, I can't help you. You promised you would protect me!"

Harry winced, both at the nails pressing into his skin, and at the raised-eyebrow expressions being bestowed on him by Ron and Hermione. He sometimes hated being in charge. "You're not going to die, Malfoy." He attempted to prize the hand off his arm. "Even Ron can't go that far wrong with porridge. I have no idea how you lasted so long with the Death Eaters if you just eat anything that is put in front of you."

"You're Gryffindors! I assumed you had honour and – you know – morals. I hadn't realised you regularly poisoned people by accident."

"I really think we're getting off topic." Hermione was scanning through the article on the front page of the newspaper. "We're going to have to address this soon before it all gets out of control, Harry."

_:-Frankly I'm amazed the media didn't hear about it sooner,-: _James said._ :-All those students at the school writing home to their parents. I guess the parents only took it seriously once they talked to their children face-to-face.-:_

"I'll floo Luna today." Harry slumped down further in his chair. "I hate interviews."

"Well then you shouldn't keep doing stuff that messes with the heads of more sophisticated members of the wizarding population," Malfoy said. He grabbed the newspaper back from Hermione. "Are you telling me they let you into our common room?"

"I'm head of Slytherin, Malfoy – of course they do. Besides, Snape backed me up."

It was as though someone had stuck a vacuum cleaner to the back of Malfoy's head and drained all the blood from his face. "Snape?"

Something in Harry twisted at that expression. He'd seen something remarkably like it in the mirror after Sirius died. "His portrait," he told Malfoy. "He has a Headmaster's portrait."

"Right. Yes. Of course." If Malfoy had looked a little green after he suspected he'd been poisoned, now he looked like an escapee from the Emerald City.

"Listen," said Harry, eager to change the subject, "before I floo Luna, let's go over the plans for 'Operation Get the Git into Gringotts."

"I'm not doing it unless you change the name," said Malfoy sulkily.

"But it's so alliterative," Hermione wheedled. "You have to appreciate the fine use of the English language."

"_Anyway_," Harry said, glaring at them, "I've made an appointment to have a private meeting at the bank tomorrow. As long as we're right about the fact that all business dealings with the Goblins will be kept strictly confidential – "

_;- Of course we are,-: _said Sirius._ :- All the Death Eaters had accounts. As long as they get the gold, goblins don't care.-:_

" – Then with the help of my invisibility cloak we shouldn't have a problem getting in."

"If I get caught and put into Azkaban, I'll never forgive you." Malfoy pointed a finger at Harry's face. "And when I die I'll come back and haunt you for the rest of your life. And all your children and all your children's children. And if I can stomach it, I'll to the same to Weasley and Granger. You will never be rid of me."

"Merlin's polkadot underpants, Malfoy," Harry said. "Were you always this melodramatic?"

"If you think I'm melodramatic now, you just wait until I'm a ghost. And since when did you use expressions like 'Merlin's polkadot underpants'? You were raised by those vile Muggles."

Harry exchanged quick glances with Hermione and Ron.

_:-Oops,-: _said James. _:-Sorry, Harry. That's one of mine.-:_

_:-You do seem to have a rather disturbing obsession for what went on under Merlin's robes, Prongs,-: _Sirius observed.

_:-It's getting worse,-: _said Harry, rather needlessly. That morning he'd been poked back to consciousness by his father to find himself halfway through applying Hermione's lipstick in the bathroom. When it got to the stage that he was going through his twenty-one year old mother's morning toileting routine, he knew it was time to really worry.

_:-Believe me,-: _Remus said sounding half-anxious, half-amused. _:-We know. Don't worry, if you start trying to wear mini-skirts we'll put a stop to it.-:_

"What's going on?" Malfoy's eyes moved from his face to Ron's and Hermione's. "Why do you all look like I just announced Armageddon?"

"Nothing." Harry shook his head and shoved back from the table, heading to the fireplace. "I'm going to give Luna a floo-call."

"Potter! Answer me, damn it! What's going on?"

"Shut up, you git," Harry heard Ron mutter. "Can't you see he doesn't want to talk about it?"

"Talk about _what_?"

Harry dropped flung the floo powder, knelt down, and stuck his head into the flames.

* * *

Harry just hoped that Hermione's glamour would last for the whole trip as she'd promised. He didn't want to be accosted by indignant members of the public asking if he'd betrayed his parents and gone into league with Barty Crouch Junior. It was amazingly freeing to be walking down Diagon Alley's bustling streets without have people doing double-takes as he went by – even if he did have an invisible Malfoy clinging to his arm the entire time.

Hermione had given Harry the most non-descript face she could manage – plain brown hair, brown eyes, wrinkles at the corners. Goblins could see through human glamours – another reason why they were such good caretakers of wizarding wealth – so Harry didn't need to worry about changing back in the middle of the bank.

"Stop grinning like a loon," Malfoy hissed in his ear. "People are going to start thinking you're insane. What's making you so cheerful anyway?"

"I'm finally moving forward and doing something," Harry murmured back. "And people aren't staring at me."

Malfoy snorted. "Mental. The lot of you."

For an awful moment, Harry thought we was talking about the fact that there were five people currently living in his head. Then he realised Malfoy was referring to Gryffindors in general and Harry and his friends in particular.

_:-He's a fine one to talk,-: _Sirius commented._ :-I know for a fact that eighty percent of his relatives and ancestors are ten flagons of pumpkin juice, twelve roast turkeys, seventeen steak-and-kidney pies, two hundred golden goblets and an eccentric Headteacher short of a Hogwarts welcoming feast.-:_

_:-Most of them are your relations as well,-: _James pointed out.

_:-I think I must have been a changeling.__-:_

_:-You know, you always did come across as a bit of a fairy.-:_

_:-Well, your hair always led me to believe your mother shagged a pygmy puff, so I reckon I win on that account.-:_

_:-Sirius!-:_

_:-He started it, Moony.-:_

Trying to ignore the Marauders' bickering, Harry looked up and glimpsed the impressive stone-white facade of the wizarding world's most powerful bank. "Come on, Malfoy." He tugged the other young man along more quickly. "Let's get this over with."

Malfoy had slowed and now resisted Harry's tugging as he ground to a halt. "Potter, please don't make me do this. If I'm caught, you have no idea how bad it'll be."

"I know exactly how bad it'll be. We won't be caught. And even if we are, I promise you I won't just run off and leave you, okay? We'll get out. I always do, you know."

He couldn't see Malfoy's face through the invisibility cloak, but the fact he wasn't moving indicated he wasn't convinced. Harry was beginning to feel desperate.

"Please? I really need you to do this for me, Malfoy – Draco. You saw what it was like last full moon. It's just going to get worse. I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you that it's not just my life that depends on us getting hold of this book."

"I'm not a bloody Gryffindor. You can't try appealing to my better nature!" But something in Malfoy's tone suggested he was wavering.

"Fine." Harry stopped tugging and turned back the way they'd come. "I'm not a Death Eater. I won't force you to do this against your will. It's not fair on you. Let's go back." He treated Malfoy to an obviously forced smile. "Come on."

They'd started walking a few steps before Malfoy stopped again.

"No." He groaned, once more resisting Harry's tugging. "No, I did promise. Damn it! Your nauseating nobility and bullheadedness is rubbing off on me. Just... let's get this over with."

Harry allowed a real smile to break out on his face and turned the full force of it on his invisible companion. "Thank you!"

It was only once they were halfway up the stairs to the double doors of Gringotts that Malfoy ground to a halt again.

"Now what?" Harry said in exasperation.

"You _tricked_ me. You _shamed_ me into doing this for you. You sneaky little... little... _snake_."

James and Sirius were sniggering in the back of Harry's mind.

He widened his eyes innocently. "Would I do that?"

There was a long pause then, "I knew you couldn't have done all that stuff they said you did by just relying on your Gryffindor brutishness, slavering minions and celebrity status. This Slytherin streak explains your few redeeming qualities."

"Was that a compliment? Besides, I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry ruffled his hair in what he belatedly recognised as a distinctly James-like gesture. "Come on."

In spite of all the events over the War of Voldemort, the bank, when he and Draco stepped inside, looked exactly as it had when Harry had first entered it at the age of eleven. It seamlessly mixed opulence with menace, wealth with griminess, serious threat with cheap thrill-rides. In the main hall, the long counter - along which the goblins and customers mixed and did business - gleamed with polished wood, marble, gold and brass, the air smelling of ink, parchment and metal. The edges of the room were shadowy, though, dozens doors and archways leading into further mysterious rooms and corridors.

Harry approached the nearest free goblin. "Excuse me?"

The goblin looked up at him with characteristic distaste marking its ugly face. "Yes?"

"I have a private meeting arranged. For ten-thirty."

"Name?"

"Harry Potter."

"Well, Harry Potter of the two-faces, you wait in there." He gestured through a nearby door and Harry meekly obeyed, hoping that no one had overheard his name or the 'two-faces' comment.

_:-At least it confirms that they can see through glamours,-: _Remus said.

The room he and Malfoy entered was stone-walled, stone-floored and mostly empty. An incredibly uncomfortable couch stood against one wall upholstered in ancient red velvet, a single torch flickering above it. Opposite, a closed door indicated another room.

"Ironhand will see you shortly." The goblin sneered and left the room.

'Shortly' turned out to mean half an hour later, by which time Harry would have killed Malfoy for his whining if the awful sofa hadn't put every one of his vertebrae out of joint. He wondered if he'd ever be able to stand up again. At last, the door opened, and a goblin with a face that was even uglier than the last one peered out at them.

"Harry Potter?"

Harry wasn't used to having to confirm his identity to people. "Er...yes."

"Very well. Come in."

Harry followed, wincing as his spine realigned and holding the door open a little longer than normal to allow Malfoy time to follow.

The goblin, Ironhand, seated himself behind a massive dark-wood desk littered with official-looking documents. "What can we do for you, Mr. Potter?"

"Everything we say here is confidential, right?"

Ironhand scowled at him. It was a very effective expression on the creature's face. "Are you questioning Gringotts' confidentiality agreement, Mr. Potter?"

"No, no! Just checking. It's a rather... delicate matter, you see."

The goblin made a dreadful hacking sound that Harry gradually realised was meant to be laughter. "We have no interest in your human affairs beyond banking. As long as you follow the rules of the bank, we do not get involved in your business. Anything you say will be completely confidential."

Harry was suddenly grateful that the goblins seemed to have no interest in who he was or what he'd done. If they had, they might have remembered that a few years ago it had been him and his friends who had broken into the bank, nicked a priceless cup, stolen a fire-breathing dragon and broken out again – this time rather more literally.

"Right. Good. Er...we need to get into Draco Malfoy's account."

"We?" Ironhand leaned forward in his seat, long nose twitching and black eyes intent. "You'd better have Mr. Malfoy with you, because the Malfoy accounts are all blood and magic-signature protected." His grin was cruel. "No key needed."

_:-I really dislike goblins,-: _Lily murmured.

_:-You have no idea,-: _Harry agreed fervently, thinking of his time spent with Griphook.

There was a rustle behind Harry, and he turned to see Malfoy's head seemingly floating in the air behind him. "I'm here."

Ironhand, seemed completely unsurprised. "You'll need more than your head, Mr. Malfoy."

"The rest of me is here too. Take us to my bank vault, please."

"Very well. Follow me."

Malfoy turned to obey, then almost tripped over the edge of the cloak as Sirius grabbed control of Harry's body and reached out to yank the invisibility cloak back over his face.

"Have you no sense of preservation?" he hissed. "Great Merlin, it's a wonder you're not dead yet."

"What's up with your voice?" Malfoy hissed back, as they hurried after Ironhand. "Are you dissing my accent, Potter?"

Harry shuddered as he took over his body again. "Just keep your attention on task, Malfoy."

"Oh, suddenly I'm Malfoy again? What happened to 'Draco'? _'Oh Draaaaco!'_"

Even though Harry couldn't see his face, he could _hear_ Malfoy fluttering his eyebrows mockingly at him.

"Shut up!"

"Board the cart, please."

Harry looked up to see they had arrived at a stone corridor, standing beside the tracks to bank's rather nauseating means of travel.

"I hate these things," Malfoy whined as he scrambled aboard in front of Harry, displaying a flash of leg as the cloak slid back.

The cart took off at a terrifying speed, barely slowing for corners, lurching up inclines, then plummeting down into dimly-lit tunnels and rooms. There were flashes of barred doors and deep pits, glints of fire on metal and moving figures. The cart went so fast the images were snatched away again in a moment, long before details could be made out.

By the time they jerked to a halt, Harry felt decidedly green. _:-That never used to make me ill,-: _he complained. _:-I used to enjoy it. Which one of you is responsible?-:_

_:-Sorry, love,-: _Lily murmured.

_:-Yeah, sorry,-:_ Remus added.

Sirius laughed. _:-Looks like you got a double dose mate. No wonder you're so woozy.-:_

"Don't you dare puke on my shoes again, Potter," Malfoy's voice said from in front of him. His voice also sounded rather strained.

"As if I'd ruin my precious cloak doing that," Harry snapped back, scrambling out onto the stone ledge beside the cart.

Malfoy climbed out after him and removed the invisibility cloak, handing it over to Harry.

"If Mr. Malfoy wishes to proceed?" Ironhand said with thinly veiled impatience, gesturing to the massive wood-and-steel strapped door in front of them.

"Yes, okay. Give me a moment, will you?" Malfoy held out his hand to Harry. "Your wand, Potter."

"My wand?" Harry tightened his fist defensively. "Why?"

"Well," Malfoy said, as though speaking to an idiot, "I don't have one, and I need one to get in."

Harry reluctantly handed his wand over, and Malfoy snatched it with a sneer. He pressed it to his palm and murmured a spell before Harry could register what he was doing. Blood welled up in his cupped hand, and Harry reached out in alarm before he could stop himself. "What are you _doing_?"

"This is a high security pureblood vault," Malfoy told him, rolling his eyes as he reached out to smear his palm over a solid gold plaque set into the centre of the door. "It needs to test your blood and magical aura before you can get in."

Harry stepped back, his stomach rolling. "That's barbaric."

"Just because it's not _Muggle_ enough for you."

The gold plate shimmered and seemed to melt and sink back into the wood of the door. It kept sinking, seeming to drag the door inward with it, slowly creating a hole than grew and spread until it was a glowing, man-sized alcove set into wood. Malfoy stepped into the alcove, and the glow brightened, flared, then seemed to sink into his body. Harry could see flickering lights moving beneath his skin and blinking at his fingertips and open eyes.

There was a deep groan of old wood and steel, and the light faded. Malfoy stepped back out of the alcove and with a massive _clunk_, the door swung inwards.

Harry reached out to grab Malfoy before he stepped inside. "Your hand?"

Malfoy held waved his hand under Harry's nose. The bleeding cut was gone, no trace of it remaining. "We're not complete barbarians, Potter, no matter what you choose to believe."

"Right."

"Besides, do you have any idea about the kind of Dark magic someone could do if pureblood families carelessly left their blood lying around every time they visited the bank?"

Harry really had nothing to say to that.

"Come on. Stop lagging."

Harry stepped inside the massive vault and felt his mouth fall open. The first thing he thought of was the storage place in the Room of Requirement where he had hidden the Half-Blood Prince's book and Malfoy had hidden the Vanishing Cabinet.

Except it was even more cluttered than that, and contained a lot more spikes, gothic carvings, and ominously glowing things that looked ready to explode at any moment. Harry couldn't even see where the teetering piles of furniture, trinkets and magical weapons ended and where the walls began.

"Don't touch _anything_," Malfoy warned.

"Why?" Harry asked, staring around. "Afraid I'll steal something from you?"

"Aside from the fact that you _did_, in fact, steal a priceless magical cup from a member of my family, I'm more worried that something in here will eat you, stab you, or curse you for being a half-blood, a Gryffindor, an idiot, or any of those other annoying qualities you have."

"You're worried about me, Malfoy?" Harry grinned at him, feeling rather proud that his own reluctant kindness was finally beginning to produce some results.

"Of course I am. I need to you to be standing in the firing line when all this goes wahoonie-shaped and someone finds out who and where I am. I can't have my family heirlooms finishing you off."

"Charming."

Harry's wandering eyes landed on a pile of money just inside the door of the vault. It was a lot smaller than he's expected – way less than he'd inherited from his parents – and seemed to contain a lot more sickles than galleons. Although Malfoy couldn't be considered destitute, he also couldn't be considered rich, or even comfortably wealthy.

Malfoy moved to stand defensively in front of the money. "Fines," he said. "Bribes to people in the Ministry. Anything to keep my mother and myself out of Azkaban. You can't claim to be surprised, Potter."

"But..." Harry shook his head. "I thought you were really rich."

"We _were. _Weren't you listening?"

_:-That must have been an awful lot of fines and bribes,-: _Sirius said. _:-The Malfoys were the richest branch of our family.-:_

_:-I'd say Lucius probably used a fair amount of it to fund Voldemort as well,-: _said Remus.

"Where did all this other stuff come from?" Harry asked, gesturing to their cluttered surroundings.

"Family. The Lestranges, the Blacks, the Malfoys. We're dying out quickly. Everything eventually ends up here."

It was sad, Harry thought, that this was all that proud little boy he'd met in first year had to show for his heritage: A criminal record, a mother and father in prison, a minimal amount of money, and a vault full of cursed and homicidal heirlooms.

"Now, I think this stuff over here was from Bellatrix," Malfoy continued, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. "I really don't fancy poking through it all, to be honest. Your wand again, please."

Harry handed it over and stood back.

"_Accio Sacrum Obitus!_"

There was a grinding sound, and a nearby pile of furniture, books, silver crockery, musical instruments, and ceremonial armour teetered dangerously, and then, seemingly in slow motion, toppled towards Harry and Malfoy.

Without thinking, Harry grabbed the other young man and yanked him back, launching them both behind a rather sturdy-looking wardrobe as the avalanche thundered down right where they had been standing. Dust and sparks billowed up, and something in the middle of the pile exploded violently and sent a beam of violet magic that hit a suit of armour which melted and popped, splattering walls and nearby furniture with liquid steel.

A disturbingly shrill cackle sounded in the resounding silence that followed the avalanche, and then ended with a metallic _twang_.

There was a flutter of brittle pages and a battered, leather-bound book wriggled out from under an old mirror and flew into Malfoy's limp hand. Malfoy blinked, shut his mouth with a click, and then, before Harry had a chance to stop him, peered around the side of the wardrobe.

There was a rather crude noise that could best be described as '_PARP!_', and a brilliantly pink and glittery flash of light rocketed out of the smoking pile of heirlooms and hit Malfoy in the head. The young man staggered back and fell against Harry.

"You _idiot_!" Harry yelled. "What kind of Slytherin are you? Do you have _no_ sense of self-preservation at _all_? Everyone who has ever watched a movie or read a decent novel _knows_ that after something like that you _never_ just stick your head out and... and..."

Harry's voice trailed off as he caught sight of Malfoy clearly for the first time. He blinked, pointed wordlessly at Malfoy's head, found that he couldn't even find words, then roared with laughter. His chest heaved, tears streamed down his face and in his mind, he could hear his family laughing as well.

"What? _WHAT?_" Malfoy reached up to clutch his head, then went pale. "My _hair_! It's _frizzy!_"

Harry hiccoughed as he tried to compose himself. "It's more than that, mate. It's an afro. And it's pink."

_:-Magenta,-: _Lily corrected.

"Magenta." He snickered again.

"Stop it! Stop laughing!"

And Harry did, because Malfoy looked genuinely upset.

"Hey, hey! Don't worry. We'll get you home, and Hermione will sort you out."

"Do you have any _idea_ about the curses some of these things have on them?" Malfoy did not look comforted in the least. "I'm going to look like this forever." His whole body had bowed forward, his skinny chest looking even more concave than usual. Harry made a mental note to have Kreacher feed him up. Sirius made a disgusted noise and scrubbed the note out again.

"Of course you won't," Harry said, shoving Sirius to the back of his head. "This is hardly going to be a horrendously evil dark curse, is it? Your hair is _pink_ for heaven's sake. Surely _someone_ in your family had a sense of fun?"

"Hah!" Malfoy sniffed miserably. "As soon as anyone shows signs of it, they get disowned. The last one apparently left all his wealth to _you_, last I heard."

"Me?" Harry blinked. "Are you talking about Sirius?"

"Sirius Black. My mother's cousin. She says he was always up for a prank. Usually at the expense of his family."

_:-He thinks I'm fun?-: _Sirius guiltily re-wrote Harry's mental note. _:-Maybe he's not such an irritating, evil, Slytheriny, whiny, snippy, pointy git after all.-:_

_:-We can fix it,-: _Remus added. _:-Draco's hair, I mean. Padfoot and Prongs once used a variation of it on the Slytherins. It's fairly harmless. It must have been a prank item. He's lucky. The thing that hit that suit of armour was a blood-boiling curse.-:_

_:-Must you call him 'Draco'?-: _Sirius whined.

_:-He was my student. I called them all by their first names.-:_

"We can – _I_ can help you," Harry said aloud. "When we get home. I've just remembered reading about that hex. It's fairly harmless."

Malfoy clutched at his glittering pink floss of hair. "I don't want your minions to see me like this. Weasley will be unbearable."

_:-He has a point,-: _James agreed. _:-Ron'll never let him live it down.-:_

Harry sighed. "When we get back, just go straight up to your room without taking the cloak off. I'll sort Ron and Hermione out, and then come up and fix your hair. Happy now? And please don't refer to my friends as my minions."

Malfoy looked pathetically grateful. It was even more pathetic when twinned with his new hairdo.

"Can I see the book now?" Harry asked.

Malfoy grimaced and handed it over, and Harry felt his heart jump into his throat as his hands closed over it. The ancient leather might once have been red, but it had faded and darkened to the colour of rusty blood. The indented letterings on the spine and front cover read _Sacrum Obitus_, but nearly all the gold leaf that had been used to highlight them had worn off, and now only clung in the aging cracks of the leather.

Harry gingerly opened it, and the parchment crackled and threatened to fall apart, brittle with age. The text inside was handwritten and very faded.

_:-There are charms to make it easier to read,-: _James said, peering through Harry's eyes.

_:-I can't believe we actually have it!-: _Lily added, doing a little mental jig.

"Ahem!"

Both Malfoy and Harry jumped and looked up to the doorway where Ironhand was hovering with an impatient look on his face.

"You have collected what you need?" he asked, sending a rather horrified glance round at the smoking wreckage that now decorated one side of the vault.

"Er... yes." Harry waved the book

"Then I must ask that we return, please."

Harry handed his invisibility cloak back to Malfoy, and they were ushered back into the cart.

* * *

"You got it?" Ron asked as soon he opened the front door to twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Yup." Harry waved the book. "We're going to have to charm it to make it readable, though. The writing's all faded." He knew his face was glowing despite his attempt at nonchalance. He followed Ron into the entrance hall, automatically shutting the front door quietly behind him in spite of the fact Walburga Black's portrait had been removed from the wall for over a year.

"Where's the ferret?" Ron asked. "Done a runner?"

"No," Harry wondered if Ron and Malfoy would ever reach anything more amiable that mutual dislike. "He got hit by a stray hex. He's gone upstairs with the cloak on. I'll go up and fix him in a minute."

"You know how to fix him?"

Harry glanced round significantly. He wasn't entirely sure if Malfoy was out of hearing distance. "_Part_ of me does."

"Ah."

"Is he okay?" Hermione asked from lounge doorway. She lifted her wand to undo the glamour on Harry's face.

"He'll be okay. Here – take the book. I'll be down in a minute, yeah?"

"I'll bet it's something embarrassing," muttered Ron, as Harry made his way upstairs.

_:-Who's going to do this?-: _Harry asked.

_:-I'll do it,-: _said Remus. _:-I wouldn't trust Prongs or Padfoot not to do something worse to the poor boy.-:_

_:-Would we?-:_

_:-Yes:- _Remus, Harry and Lily said immediately.

Harry knocked on Malfoy's door. "It's me."

"Come in."

When Harry walked in, it was to see Malfoy pacing the room in fierce agitation, tugging at his magenta locks.

"Mordred and Morgana, this is awful!" he burst out.

"It's fine," Harry assured him. "I can fix it."

"It's not fine!" His voice cracked on the last word. He spun around so he was facing away from Harry and mumbled something.

"What?"

"I _said_, it's not just my head, you smug git. Go on – laugh!"

"What do you – oh. _Oh_." Harry fumbled for words, feeling his face going scarlet. "Um. Okay. We can – you know – fix that too."

"I'm not going to get undressed in front of you!"

_:-He doesn't need to,-: _Remus said. _:-We can cast the spell through his clothing.-: _Harry repeated this out loud.

"Really?" Malfoy looked unutterably relieved.

"Really."

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get on with it."

Harry closed his eyes, briefly prayed for patience, then allowed Remus to take over, feeling his body shudder as the werewolf got used to the sensation of being corporeal again. Harry watched as his hand rose, pointing his wand at Malfoy's head.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Malfoy eyed the wand. "Why did you shiver just now?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Remus told him. "You don't need to worry."

Malfoy took a step back. "What's up with your voice?"

_:-I was never any good with accents!-: _Remus complained.

_:-Just cast the damn spell, Moony.-:_

Remus obediently muttered the words to an unfamiliar spell and moved Harry's hand in a fluid and complicated motion. Malfoy's hair glowed pink for a few seconds, then slowly faded to white-blonde, the uncontrollable frizz dropping and becoming straight.

_:-That was cool, mate,-: _James complimented Remus. _:-You were the only one who could ever do that counter-spell properly. Remember when I charmed Padfoot to have a red and gold Mohawk after he lost that bet?-:_

_:-Yes,-:_ said Sirius. _:-If Moony hadn't changed me back, McGonagall would have had me in detention for a week. She wouldn't even listen when I pointed out they were in House colours.-:_

Malfoy looked frozen and pale. He slowly lifted his hand to his head, then feeling the straight hair, twisted his fingers to pluck out a strand to check the colour.

"You did it."

Remus nodded wordlessly.

"What about – you know – the rest?"

"Where?" Remus asked, apparently deciding to keep talking to a minimum.

Malfoy blushed an waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his groin. Harry was glad that he wasn't in control of his body at that moment. He couldn't have kept a straight face with James and Sirius sniggering in his head like that, and Lily's mental presence glowing aquamarine with suppressed amusement.

Remus pointed Harry's wand downwards and Malfoy made a squeaking noise and covered his groin with both hands. "You'd better know what you're doing, Potter. If you charm off anything vital I'll never forgive you."

"Did it not work for your hair?" Remus said.

"Well, yeah. But your voice is all funny. I don't want you to magic me if you're feeling weird."

"I feel fine, Draco."

Before Malfoy could protest, or react to the fact that Remus had accidentally used his first name, Remus batted his hands aside and cast the spell again. Malfoy's face grew pinched and he clutched at his trousers again. "Did it work?"

Harry grabbed control of his body again while the Slytherin's attention was focused downwards. "Ew! Don't check now. I promise you still have the ability to inflict hundreds of pointy little Malfoy babies on the unsuspecting world if you wish to.

"You're such a git," Malfoy snapped.

"That would have been more insulting if you weren't still looking at your own crotch," said Harry. "Now I'm off downstairs to look at that book with Ron and Hermione."

The other young man gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll stay up here. The less time I have to spend with your minions, the better."

"For the last time – they're not my minions, Malfoy."

Harry turned to leave the room.

"Hey Potter?"

"What?"

"You can call me Draco if you must. You're obviously dying to."

Harry resisted the urge to turn him down out of sheer contrariness. "You're a git and a royal wanker... Draco."

"Likewise, Harry. Now sod off. And send me up some food while you're at it."

Sirius and James made retching noises in Harry's mind.


	15. Message in Rhyme

**A Message in Rhyme**

"Here it is," Hermione announced. "I haven't used it in years. Last time was when we had to do that assignment on quintepeds. I found a book in the library that was really good, but no one ever used it because someone had spilled pumpkin juice on it and the writing was all washed out." She frowned down at the book in her lap, absently practicing the wand movements with her quill.

Harry looked up at her fondly from where he was sprawled on the hearth rug in front of the lounge fire. For some reason he found it more comfortable to relax on the floor rather than furniture these days, which was something, Sirius informed him, that Remus used to do while they were still at school. Harry indulged in the odd habit because Remus had been so glad Harry had picked up something from his human self rather than the wolf.

Ron was seated on the sofa beside Hermione, holding out their recently acquired copy of _Sacrum Obitus_ for her, while Malfoy – _Draco_, Harry reminded himself – lounged elegantly in a nearby armchair, pretending not to be interested, but failing as he'd broken his vow to spend as little time around Harry's 'minions' as possible.

"Okay, hold it out, Ron," Hermione said, motioning to the copy of _Sacrum Obitus_ that Ron had been squinting at for a last ten minutes.

"Are you sure you can do it right?" Harry asked nervously. "Only, if you accidentally blow up the last remaining copy of this book I might have to gut you and use your entrails to make violin strings which I will then play as I watch the rest of your remains being savaged by starving hyenas."

There was a long pause and Harry was aware of three pairs of eyes staring at him with rather horrified expressions while in his head, the attention of most of his family had been directed accusingly in Sirius's direction.

_:-What? Oh, don__'__t look at me like that. You know I only ever used threats like that in a joking way. It__'__s not my fault they rubbed off on Harry.-:_

Harry cleared his throat. "It's not that I'd _want_ to do it. It's just that I may be driven to by sheer desperation and insanity."

"Is there something I should know about?" Malfoy asked in the tones of one who has entered a room marked 'Cute, Fluffy Kitty Cats' and found it full of lions.

"I won't make a mistake, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "This is a very simple spell. It won't go wrong. Particularly since I like my entrails where they are."

Harry watched with wary eyes as Ron shifted so he was holding the book out towards his girlfriend. Hermione took a deep breath and twiddled her wand in one of the most complicated gestures Harry had ever seen, muttering a sequence of syllables that sounded disturbingly like Japanese. A rose-pink gel-like light emerged sluggishly from the tip of her wand and enveloped the book, where it brightened for a few seconds before sinking in again.

Harry gaped at her, unable to think of anything beyond the fact that if Hermione had performed the complicated spell wrong, the book might be ruined. His hand, however, seemed to have no such compunctions. It rose against his will, lifted his wand to point at Hermione, and he found his mouth saying the words to a spell he knew he didn't know. Hermione gave a little shriek and dropped her wand, her hands flying to clutch at her face. Large green spots were erupting all over her face, and as Harry watched, they sprouted little eyes and mouths which began to sing in squeaky voices; _"Liar, Liar, robes on fire, your nose is so long, it can be put up for hire!"_

_:-You know, the Muggle version of that rhyme is a lot less obscure than the wizard one,-: _Lily commented. _:-And it scans better, too.-:_

"Who was that?" Harry demanded, seizing control of his body and forgetting to speak in silence in his anger. "Which one of you?"

"Er...it was you." Draco was staring at him as though he'd grown horns and started dancing a tango with the hat stand. "What happened to the idea with the gutting and the violin strings? You should have gone with it. This is just painfully adolescent."

_:-It was James,-: _Lily told him. _:-And believe me when I say he__'__s going to be very sorry.-:_

_:-She said it was a simple spell!-: _James snapped. _:-She lied. She could have destroyed the book!-:_

"It's _my_ body!" The fizzing of his temper seemed much stronger than usual, and he felt it eating away at his sanity, melding him together even more with his family. They really _had_ to sort out more bodies soon.

"Harry!" Ron grabbed his shoulders and gave him a rough shake. "Get your head right, mate. Seriously."

"I'm _trying!_" Harry sank back to the floor and dropped his face into his hands. "We just...for heaven's sake, Hermione. You said it was simple."

"I was setting your mind at rest." Hermione looked tearful, and she had to raise her voice above the singing of her spots. "I _knew_ how to do the spell." She took a shuddering breath. "Please make them go away."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling his emotions settle. _:-Dad?-:_

_:-I__'__m sorry, Harry. I reacted without thinking.-:_

_:-Just fix it.-:_

Harry's body shuddered as James took over and cast the counter-curse on Hermione's face. The singing green spots and the squeaky voices faded. Harry stepped back into control of his body.

"Could someone kindly explain to me what's going on?" Draco whined.

"Well?" Harry said, ignoring the Slytherin. "Did it work? Can you read what it says?"

Even Draco fell quiet as Ron tentatively opened the book to one of the middle pages. There was a breathless silence as Ron's eyes skimmed the page. He frowned then looked up and glared at Draco. "Malfoy, you slimy little sod! Is this some kind of joke?"

Harry's heart sunk. "What's wrong?"

"It's a book of rhymes. Bad rhymes."

"Rhymes?" Surprisingly, it was Draco who spoke. "I risked my _life_ and had my hair turned _ pink_ for a book of _rhymes_?" His voice got awfully shrill when he was indignant.

"_I had a little nut tree,_" Ron read, "_Nothing would it bear._ And then it just says; 'two sickles' in brackets."

"_But a silver nutmeg and a golden pear,_" Harry, Hermione, and (silently) Lily chanted.

Draco and Ron turned to stare at them.

"What did you say?" Ron asked, bemused.

"It's a Muggle nursery rhyme." Hermione looked interested in spite of herself.

"_I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear, _

_but a silver nutmeg and a golden pear._

" _The King of Spain's daughter came to visit me, _

_and all for the sake of my little nut tree._

"_I skipped over water, I danced over sea. _

_And all the birds in the air couldn't catch me._"

"That's impossible," Draco asserted. "It's an old wizarding text. And it should be written in old English or Latin. The Peverells lived centuries ago."

"And I'm not sure that this nursery rhyme is even that old," Hermione added. "Certainly not as old as the Peverells."

"So it's a fake?" The disappointment Harry felt was so huge he wasn't sure how to react.

"It's a magic book. Don't dismiss things so quickly, Harry." Hermione took the book from Ron. "It's definitely old. Ancient. That's what's so weird." She opened it to the first page and frowned down at it. "Hey! The first page _is_ in old English. I wish I could read it."

_:-I can,-: _Remus said, his voice surprisingly calm. _:-Or rather, I know a translation charm. I used it a lot when Dumbledore got me to do research for the Order.-:_

"Pass it here," Harry said, and Hermione handed him the book. He closed his eyes and let Remus take over, watching from the back of his own mind as his body cast yet another unfamiliar charm. The ancient, hand-written letters wriggled and squirmed together like maggots in a pot, before resolving themselves into a form that was recognisably modern English.

When he looked up, Draco was staring at him, mouth agape. "Since when would _you _know an advanced translation charm?"

Harry hurriedly stepped forward to take control of his body. "Er...you know..." His mind raced. "French road maps."

"_Road maps_?" Malfoy smirked. "It that Muggle for 'French porn'?"

"Hush!" Hermione said. "What does it say?"

Harry looked down at the translated words and read:

_To thee, my descendent, from Ignotus Peverell._

"Hey - That's my Peverell brother!" Harry interrupted himself. "He wrote the book."

"Well, the others didn't really have a chance, did they?" Ron pointed out. "Having been bumped off rather soon after getting their Hallows and all."

"You're a descendent of Ignotus Peverell?" Draco stared at Harry.

"What, jealous, Mal...Draco?"

"Why are you calling him by his first name?" Ron wanted to know. He sounded very peeved.

"Can we get back on task?" Hermione jabbed Ron in the ribs. "Be quiet and let him read."

_Along with the cloak, Death did bestow on me a geas._

"What's a 'geas'?" Ron asked. "I thought they were those things muggles used to heat their water. I'm guessing it's not, though, unless Death was doing a trick-me-out-of-my-priceless-cloak-and-get-a-random-piece-of-Muggle-technology-free kind of deal."

"That' a geyser, you idiot. A geas is like an obligation or a vow," Hermione explained. "Some people call it a curse because it's something you can't _not_ do."

_He placed upon my shoulders the task of passing on the secret of the Deathly Hallows and how they may be used by the chosen descendent who is destined to become Master of Death. Only one is destined for this. Only one shall break the code of the ceremony. With the aid of my dear friend, Aelfgifu_, _we shall use the Deep Magic to pass on the ceremony to the one who shall interpret the meaning. _

_This is my geas, my curse. As I live my life, this is the price I pay to my comrade, Death. Use with wisdom and compassion, descendent of mine. _

The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound in the room following Harry's reading. Then Draco cleared his throat. "Master of Death, Potter? Great Mordred, what are you up to this time?"

"None of your business," Harry snapped, a little hurt that Draco had addressed him by his surname.

Draco sighed. "You were raised by Muggles, _Harry_."

_:-You are so transparent, you know,-: _said Sirius

"So what?" Harry asked defensively.

"So, I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Deep magic is serious stuff. It's a geas in itself. And every good pureblood child knows about the legends of Aelfgifu of Longman Hollow. She was a Seer and a sorceress – incredibly powerful and said to live for so many centuries that her hair rotted and fell out her head. She flew up into the sky in a magical basket and swept cobwebs from the sky which she used to make new hair in which lunar spiders still lived."

"Yeah," Ron said, sounding rather shaken. "And she had a daughter with a yew tree – "

"What?" Harry asked in consternation. "You mean she actually shagged a tree?"

"_Magically_, Harry. And then her daughter betrayed her and tried to steal her Second Sight to foresee the future. Aelfgifu killed her, but was so distressed by what she'd had to do, that she went to a place called Longman Hollow and called the earth to close around her, creating a hill on which nothing would grow except a single yew tree, and she lives there to this day."

"How do you _magically_ shag a tree?" Harry asked.

"You're missing the point." Draco rolled his eyes in an expressive gesture that conveyed everything he thought about the intellect of ex-Gryffindors in general and their golden boy in particular.

"Definitely missing the point," said Hermione. "Haven't you got it yet, Harry? Think about our Muggle nursery rhymes:

"_There was an old woman  
Tossed up in a basket  
Seventeen times as high as the moon.  
Where she was going  
I just had to ask it,  
For in her hand she carried a broom._

"Old woman, old woman,  
Old woman," said I,  
"Please tell me, please tell me,  
Why you're up so high?"  
"I'm sweeping the cobwebs  
Down from the sky,  
And I'll be with you  
By and by."

"I vaguely remember that one," said Harry. "I probably don't know as many as you since I only ever got to overhear them being sung to Dudley."

"That's impossible." Draco looked shaken. "That was an old pureblood legend."

"You think that's impossible? How about this one:

_There was an Old Woman, lived under a hill. _

_And if she isn't gone, she lives there still. _

_Baked apples she sold, and cranberry pies, _

_and she's the old woman that never told lies._"

"'Never told lies'?" said Ron, he sat down abruptly on the sofa again. "That _is_ weird. Aelfgifu was famous for being a brilliant Seer. Everything she saw came true."

"Well, there you go," Hermione said. "That's how he did it."

"Who?"

"Ignotus Peverell. That's how he managed to disguise the clues for the ceremony and potions instructions in Muggle nursery rhymes. He and Aelfgifu did it together. He was said to be extraordinarily powerful, and I'll bet he got a bit of help from Death. Somehow, Aelfgifu looked into the future and found the English Muggle nursery rhymes and folk songs and then Ignotus altered them magically to give the clues – probably a kind of delayed compulsion charm that worked on the people inventing the words. That way, even if one of his pureblood descendents worked out that it was all about Muggle nursery rhymes, they still couldn't carry out the ceremony, because some of the nursery rhymes hadn't even been _written _yet. He made sure that it wasn't until this era and _this_ descendent that it would be possible to put the clues together."

Hermione paged through the book excitedly. "Like here: _They dined on mince and slices of quince. _And then in brackets he's written: 'Silver/gold alloy. Thrice like the one the mouse ran up'."

"Ooh, I know that one," Harry said. "_They dined on mince and slices of quince which they ate with a runcible spoon._ That's 'The Owl and the Pussycat'. And the thing about the mouse could be _Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock._"

"'The Owl and the Pussycat' was only written in the nineteen-thirties, I think," said Hermione. "And this is a vital part of the potions method. You have to stir the potion with a runcible spoon made of gold and silver alloy three times clockwise."

_:-This is incredible,-: _Remus said, his voice awed. _:-The sheer magical power that must have been required. It had to have been a project that ran his entire lifetime. How on earth did he even think of it?-:_

_:-It__'__s brilliant,-: _Sirius agreed. _:-Just think of all those snooty purebloods getting their hands on this book and expecting to be able to become Masters of Death, and it turns out all they get is an obscure book of Muggle nursery rhyme fragments. I__'__d have loved to have seen their faces. I can now see where the Potters get their creative genius.-:_

_:-I don__'__t think I have much creative genius,-: _Harry said doubtfully.

_:-Nonsense,-: _James told him. _:-You just need to unlock it.-:_

"But Voldemort must have worked out the secret," Ron said. He got up, went over to a cabinet against the wall and pulled out a few bottles of butterbeer, passing one to Harry, Hermione and, after a brief hesitation followed by a rolling of eyes, Draco. "He was raised in a Muggle orphanage. He must have known the rhymes."

"Even if he did, he didn't have access to all the Deathly Hallows," Harry said. "I had the cloak and Dumbledore had the wand. All he had was the ring. Plus he was descended from Ignotus's brother, Cadmus, who owned the resurrection stone, not from Ignotus himself."

"The Deathly Hallows?" Draco had gone even paler than usual, and he choked on his mouthful of butterbeer. "You have the Deathly Hallows? All of them? Slytherin's scales, you idiots. Do you have _any_ idea of the kind of power you are messing with? I thought this was some kind of step on the way to sorting out Po-Harry's werewolf problem. What on earth are you _doing_ messing with _Death_? Are you _insane?_"

Up until this moment, Draco had been a quietly snarky and annoying presence in the house. He kept a low profile when possible, and tended to avoid Ron and Hermione when he could. The fact that he now stood almost completely defenceless in front of them as he ranted spoke volumes about how serious he was.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Ron snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"No, _you_ don't know. You could accidentally raise an army of inferi. You could _kill_ innocent people. Maybe Granger and Harry don't know how serious it is, but _you_, Weasley, are a pureblood, and no matter how low your family have fallen, _you_ should know."

"You have no right to call him 'Harry'!" Ron yelled back. "And you have no idea what we're doing you stupid, Slytherin git!"

"He said I could." Draco's face, in spite of the horror plastered on it, still managed to show a trace of his normal superior smugness.

"No he didn't, did you, Harry?"

"Shut up! All of you!" Harry pressed his hand to his head, where his family were chattering loudly, giving him conflicting advice on how to handle the situation which varied from talking reasonably to both Ron and Draco, to stringing Draco up on the chandelier in the drawing room by certain sensitive parts of his anatomy. He pushed himself up to his feet and began pacing the length of the lounge.

The noise level dropped as everyone turned their attention to him.

"Now listen. Ron, stop having a go at Draco about every little thing, okay? We have to be adults about this. We have to put aside our stupid school rivalries and try and get on with each other because like it or not, we're going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future. Draco, there are things you have no idea about. There's more to my... situation than meets the eye, but I can assure you we're not going to be rushing into anything. Nor will we be raising an army of inferi or killing anybody."

"Well, what _are_ you doing, then?"

Harry hesitated.

_:-You__'__re not seriously considering telling the git, are you?-:_ Sirius asked incredulously.

"I'm good at potions. I have lots of knowledge about history and pureblood ceremonies." Draco shot a scathing glance at Ron. "I could be useful to you. And I could probably stop you before you accidentally stopped the hearts of everyone in London or turned all of Britain into living corpses or something."

"Why do you care?" Ron muttered, his voice petulant.

"Because, Weasel, I am part of Britain and I have no desire to end up wandering round while my limbs rot off and you Gryffindor buffoons wreak havoc on civilized society because you barge into things without thinking. Besides, I'm bored and am probably going to be stuck in this place until Harry Bloody Noble Potter comes to the rescue of all the wrongly-imprisoned or whatever it is he usually does."

"We can't tell him, Harry," Hermione said, wringing her hands.

"How bad can it be?" Draco asked. "Is Potter trying to bring his saintly parents back from the dead or something?"

There was a long, telling silence.

"Great Salazar, please tell me you're joking."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when the fireplace flared green and someone stepped out. The four of them froze, eyes turning towards the floo. Then, before Harry could react, Draco had launched himself forward grabbed the wand out of Harry's back pocket and held it up to the throat of the woman standing on the hearthrug, toddler in her arms.

"What the _hell_ are you _doing_?" Harry yelled, grabbing Draco's arm and trying to wrestle the wand from him.

"It's Bellatrix!" Draco elbowed Harry painfully in the ribs and pressed the wand further into her throat.

"It's Andromeda, you fool." Harry stood up, groaning and rubbing his side. "Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to give Bellatix open floo access to my house? Besides, she's dead."

Draco laughed hollowly. "I'm wondering how long that's going to stop you now."

"Lower the bloody wand, please, Draco. That's my godson in her arms."

Teddy was eyeing the wand pressed to his grandmother's throat with interest, looking completely unfazed by the turn of events.

Draco sent Harry a startled glance and immediately lowered his wand. He stared at Andromeda, and Harry could see his eyes, now unclouded by panic, cataloguing the differences between her and her sister Bellatrix. Andromeda – who unlike Bellatrix hadn't been confined to Azkaban for years – still showed signs of the stunningly beautiful woman she once was. Her features – like all the Blacks, including Sirius and Draco himself – were defined and elegantly cut. Her dark hair was greying, but pinned neatly up to her head, and her heavy-lidded eyes were studying Draco with the same reservation as he studied her.

"Harry, dear," Andromeda said, without taking her eyes off Draco's face. "You really _must_ break this habit of setting wanted criminals loose on society. It's not at all seemly. I hope you at least managed to persuade him to give you what you were looking for."

"Draco isn't a criminal. And yes. He got me the book."

Andromeda's eyebrows shot up at the use of her nephew's first name. "Good. I've been worried."

"Are you really my Aunt Andromeda?" Draco said, looking rather shell-shocked. Harry's wand now hung limply from his hand.

"Well, technically, I suppose. Though I have been disowned for a very long time."

"Why do you have Harry's godson? I didn't even know he _had_ a godson."

"He's my grandson."

"Nymphadora has a son?"

Andromeda bowed her head, concentrating on holding onto Teddy who was trying to wriggle out of her arms with cries of, "Harry! Harry!"

"She had a son. You must know she is dead."

"I'm sorry," Draco said, sounding, for the first time since Harry had ever known him, genuinely regretful. "I think my mother may have mentioned it, but I forgot. I didn't even know she was married."

_:-Charmed,-: _Remus commented.

"To Remus Lupin," Harry told him.

"Professor Lupin?" Draco stared at the little boy in surprise. "That explains it then. He was one of your father's old school friends, wasn't he?"

"And my godfather's. Yes."

"Your godfather? You mean Sirius Black?" Draco shook his head. "I still think it's weird that you of all people championed getting him a posthumous pardon."

"He was innocent! And he was family."

Draco laughed shortly and gestured to Andromeda. "Oh yes, we know you can't break the bonds of _family_."

Teddy started to cry, and Harry scowled at Draco, before grabbing his wand and shoving him aside. "I'm sorry for all that, Andromeda. Come, sit down. Kreacher?"

The ugly little house elf popped into the room. "Yes, master?"

"Could we have some tea and biscuits, please?"

"Right away." He disappeared again.

"Come here, Teddy." Harry knelt down and held out his arms, and Teddy wriggled from Andromeda's clutches and toddled over to Harry, a massive grin on his face, his hair darkening to messy black as his little arms went around Harry's neck.

"He's a metamorphmagus!" Draco said, gaping.

"Like his mum." Harry felt Remus reaching out in his mind to feel his son through Harry's arms. "Poor little thing has no one now except his Grandma and me."

"Great Merlin in a mop cap, that's what this is about, isn't it? You're trying to bring back the kid's parents!"

"So what if it is?" Harry snapped. "What's wrong with wanting to bring back his Dad if I can?"

"It's dangerous, you Gryffindor idiot! Did you learn _nothing_ from the Dark Lord? Death can't be defeated!"

"Unless Death is on your side," Hermione put in calmly. "He wanted this. It was Death's geas."

Kreacher popped back in at that moment and bustled round placing teacups and teapot on the antique carved coffee table along with a plate of chocolate biscuits and cakes. Harry picked one up and gave it to Teddy, who munched happily, smearing chocolate icing everywhere.

"You are responsible for cleaning him up, Harry Potter," Andromeda said, eyeing her grandson with resignation.

"Little boys should be allowed to get dirty and eat chocolate and things. I don't mind cleaning him up. He can have a swim in the giant pool of a bath in Sirius's Mum's old bathroom. Kreacher's just finished de-hexing it and cleaning it up."

"I knew I recognised some of the furniture and things in this house," Draco said suddenly. "This is the Blacks' London house, isn't it?"

"Why do you think so many sections are blocked off?" Harry tickled Teddy to make him giggle. "Kreacher and I have been trying to make it habitable for the past two years."

"You were hiding out here for two years, you mean," Ron muttered. Harry noticed Draco shoot him a startled glance.

"So may I see the book?" Andromeda asked. "It must be exciting if you were so caught up in it that you forgot it was your weekend with Teddy."

"I didn't exactly forget he was coming," Harry said, flushing . "I just kind of forgot it was already the weekend."

Hermione handed Andromeda the book, and they watched as she opened it and skimmed the first page. As she read, her elegant eyebrows rose higher and higher on her forehead. "Why is it," she asked eventually, "that you are always 'The Chosen One', Harry Potter?"

"I never _ask_ to be chosen," he protested. "I always _try _to be the weedy kid with the spots and the asthma at the back of the class who always get picked last for everything, but life unkindly always picks me first. In fact, it usually makes me the _picker_."

Ron, Andromeda, and Draco stared at him blankly.

"Muggle gym class analogy," Hermione supplied.

"Right..." Andromeda blinked and looked back at the book. "So I assume you know what the code is?" She flicked through the crackly pages, then stopped, staring at one incredulously. Then she started laughing. "Oh this is priceless! Muggle nursery rhymes and folk songs? The man was a genius!" She pointed to one. "Look here – the first step of the ceremony after the potion is made: _Cross patch, draw the latch_. And then in brackets it says: _And follow the first part of the ceremony._"

"You know what that means?" Draco asked her. "How?"

"I married a Muggleborn man, dear. He used to sing these to Nymphadora when she was a little girl. He sung this one to her when she was grumpy. _Cross patch, draw the latch, sit by the fire and spin. Take a cup and drink it up, then call the neighbours in._ Basically it means that Harry needs to sit by the ceremonial fire, spin his wand in the official movements of the spell – which I assume you learn at another point – then take a cup of the potion, drink it up, then summon the ...individuals...he wants to bring back from the dead."

"Cross patch, cross patch!" Teddy sang delightedly, clapping his hands and spraying cake crumbs everywhere.

"How did you get all that from that rhyme?" Ron asked suspiciously. "You're just making it up."

"It's obvious when you think about it," Andomeda said, looking genuinely surprised that everyone else hadn't leapt to the same conclusion.

"You were in Ravenclaw, weren't you!" Ron's voice was accusing.

"I refuse to be pigeonholed according to characteristics placed on me when I was eleven by a thousand-year-old cranium accessory in great need of a good wash and a stitching charm."

_:-In normal-people speak that means yes,-: _James helpfully supplied.

"Andromeda," said Harry, who now knew the signs of an ex-Ravenclaw working herself up to a lecture on equality and individualism. "Sit down and have a biscuit, why don't you."

"Don't try to derail me, Harry Potter! It's about time you young people learned that –"

"These ones have marshmallows and bits of shortbread in them," Harry interrupted.

Andromeda wavered.

"And crunchy bits on top."

"Very well. But don't think you can escape the lecture."

"Andromeda, you don't need to give me that lecture. I'm the Gryffindor Golden Boy who became Head of Slytherin. I've had about all the equality and individuality I can stomach. "

"Great Salazar in a slime bucket, I can't believe you had to go and remind me of that." Draco looked vaguely nauseated. "People are going to lose all respect for Slytherin with a great bumbling oaf like you at the top."

"Why are you even here?" Ron asked, glowering at him. He turned to Harry. "Why is he here? You do realise we've just let our worst enemy in on a very life-threatening secret, don't you?"

"He's not _my _worst enemy," Harry said. "No amount of childish insults, supercilious sniggering and forgetting to clean his hair out the plughole – and don't deny it, Draco, no one else has hair that colour – will make him worse than Voldemort. Though the last one brings him really close."

"Our worst _alive_ enemy, then. Anyone mind if I hex him? He's doing that annoying thing with his nose again."

"If you must," Harry said, recalling the way a few strands of surprisingly strong blonde hair had painfully strangled his big toe that morning while he tried to bath.

"Just this once," said Hermione.

"Go ahead, dear," Andromeda added, obviously still sore about having a wand pressed to her throat.

"_I_ mind!" Draco would have said more, but it's hard to talk when you're vomiting up slugs.

* * *

Harry's head ached. He didn't know whether it was because of stress, because of all the chatting that went on his head, or for some more sinister reason that had to do with his brain exploding from trying to cram too many personalities into it for an extended period of time. Whatever the reason, it was now three in the morning and he was down in the kitchen making himself some cocoa in the hope that it would help him sleep. He was also enjoying the fact that his family were curled up in the back of his head, dozing. It was indescribably wonderful to have his thoughts all to himself for once.

The milk on the hob began to boil and Harry took it off and stirred in the cocoa powder and sugar paste he'd made. He'd never quite got a grip on wizarding cooking after years of Muggle cooking under Aunt Petunia's harsh eye.

As he poured the cocoa into a mug, the warm chocolaty scent filled his nose, and he lifted the mug to his face to breathe in deeply.

"Oh, it's you."

Harry jumped and swung around, splashing the hot drink over his hands. He swore as he put the mug down and turned to run his hands under the cold tap.

"What do you want, Malfoy? You're going to wake Teddy wandering round the house at night."

"I thought it was 'Draco' now. Besides..." Malfoy raised a pointed eyebrow. "Cauldron calling the kettle black. You're wandering just as much as me."

Harry slumped down at the kitchen table with his much-depleted drink. "Can't you just leave me alone? You would not believe how...drained I feel right now."

"Because of the werewolf thing? Because of the Barty Crouch thing? Because of the Master of Death thing? I can't say I'm particularly surprised, Pot-Harry." He moved to sit down at the table opposite Harry. "Why don't you just settle down and live a quiet life for a change?"

Harry dropped his head to the table with a painful crack. "I've _tried_. It doesn't stick. And now... I can't _not_ do this. I don't have a choice."

"Why? Your godson's parents are _dead_. Why don't you leave them that way? You grew up okay, much as it pains me to say it."

"I spent the first ten years of my life in a cupboard. Thinking I was worthless."

Something in Draco's expression flickered, but it was gone before Harry could raise his head up enough to catch sight of it.

"I thought that was exaggeration by the _Prophet_."

Harry turned his face back to the table and shrugged.

"Well, even if it wasn't - you know - pleasant for you, Teddy has you and Andromeda. He'll be fine. And I bet that if he could talk in full sentences he'd tell you that he'd prefer for you to find a cure for your werewolf problem rather than attempting to do the impossible and bring back his dead parents. If he loses you too, don't you think that would make it worse? And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but right now, you definitely have a few screws loose up there. I hear you muttering to yourself in different voices, you can't concentrate on things properly without mentally drifting away after five minutes. And some of the gestures you make and things your do...they're just not _you_ anymore. It's downright creepy, and you're the only person standing between me and my mother, and Azkaban. I want you in full mental health."

Harry couldn't help laughing darkly at the last comment. Slytherin to the last.

"You don't understand half of it, Draco."

"Then _tell _me. If I'm going to help you with the potion and things, it's only fair that I know."

_:-Oh Harry, are you sure it__'__s wise?-:_ Harry jumped for the second time that night. He had been so involved in the conversation he hadn't even been aware of his family waking up.

_:-Mum, it__'__s my decision. I can__'__t do this much longer and it _is_ only fair to tell him if he__'__s going to help us.-:_

_:-But how can you trust him?-: _Sirius demanded. _:-He__'__s Lucius and Narcissa__'__s son!-:_

_:-And you are Orion and Walbuga__'__s son,-: _Remus pointed out gently.

Sirius's mental presence flushed pink with shame. _:-You always have a way of pointing out when I__'__m being insensitive, Moony. I wish you wouldn__'__t.-:_

_:-You need it sometimes, Pads. And I think we should let Harry make this decision. We have no right to take it from him.-: _

"You're doing it again." Draco's voice was irritated. "Drifting off in mid-conversation."

"If I tell you, you have to swear that you won't let on to _anyone _else."

"Who would I tell? But if it makes you happy I swear on my honour that I'll keep your secret."

"Okay. Right." Harry took a sip of cocoa then looked up into Draco's pale, aristocratic face. He never would have dreamed that of the few people he would tell his biggest secret to, Draco bloody Malfoy would have been one of them. He still wasn't sure why he trusted the other young man, but something inside him told him he could. "Don't say I didn't warn you."


	16. Of Muggles, Movies and Microwaves

**Of Muggles, Movies and Microwaves**

"Are you insane?" Draco's mouth was pulled so tight Harry could see the shape of his teeth beneath his lips. "Do you have any idea how bloody dangerous this is going to be? You're planning on tearing a hole in the veil between the living and the dead."

"Er..." Harry gave an apologetic grimace. "Remus says to tell you that we're _not_ actually planning that. They're already here in spirit. All we're doing is trying to get them bodies."

"Oh _Remus_ said that, did he? How do I know this is not all some elaborate scheme to screw with my head?"

"Me? I'm the Gryffindor Golden Boy. I don't do anything sneaky enough to be considered head-screwy."

Draco actually laughed. "And that's the biggest head-screw of them all, Golden Boy. You let everyone believe you're this happy-go-lucky bumbling Gryffindor when anyone with half a brain who chose to examine the evidence would realise there's a Slytherin underneath. I need you to prove this to me. Prove, at least, that it's not some really advanced form of Multiple Personality Disorder."

"The book is not proof enough?" Harry asked.

"From my point of view, the book is a jumble of badly put together crappy rhymes."

_:-Let me take over__,_-: Sirius said.

_:-No way. You__'__ll just make matters worse.-: _Harry mentally elbowed Sirius back from the forefront of his mind.

_:-I won__'__t! I__'__ve got something I could show him.-:_

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, eyeing Harry's facial expression with suspicion.

"Sirius wants to show you something. He wants to take over."

"What would he have to show me? I never met the man. He was disowned from my mother's family long before I was born. Besides, even if you are telling the truth, do you really think it's wise to let a psychotic madman possess you? "

Harry's mind was roughly commandeered by an indignant Sirius. "I am not a psychotic madman! I never killed those people!" After all this time, it had stopped being odd to feel his mouth forming those rounded aristocratic vowels without him being in control, but as Harry saw the unnerved expression flick across Draco's face, he suddenly realised quite how insane he must sound.

Draco pursed his lips, his face shifting from disturbed to reluctantly fascinated. "You don't have to kill people to be a psychotic madman."

"I've a good mind not to show you your proof," Sirius snapped.

"It's remarkable. Your whole face changes. And your voice. The accent is perfect – you've got the old-family pureblood intonation down to pat. It's enough to make me almost believe you're telling the truth."

"Harry would never lie about something like this."

Draco just raised an elegant eyebrow, nicked Harry's half-forgotten cup of cocoa, and sat back in his seat, sipping the drink.

Sirius took a deep breath and closed Harry's eyes.

"_Sleep in the dark, wrapped in the dark_

_The stars will find you, watch you, teach you,_

_Frozen in death in glittering splendour,_

_Their power shall feed yours,_

_Nourish your blood-so-pure,_

_The power of constellations for you, my child,_

_From those long gone to those still coming."_

When he opened his eyes again, Harry peered over Sirius's presence at the front of his mind to see Draco's reaction. To his amazement, the other young man's eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and awe.

"Only those born directly from the Black line with Black blood in their veins are able to utter that nursery rhyme," he murmured. "There's no way that family spell can be broken, and I'm positive Potter is not a direct Black descendent. You really are Sirius Black, aren't you?"

Harry wormed his way back into control. "That was a nursery rhyme? Bit morbid isn't it?"

Draco made a face. "That has to be you again, Potter. Have you even _read_ some of your own Muggle nursery rhymes? Some of the stuff in that book is enough to give any good wizard child nightmares. Need I remind you of that gem we dug up yesterday: _Here comes the candle to light you to bed, here comes the chopper to chop off your head. Chip chop, chip chop the last man__'__s head is off._ It's a good thing Muggles don't have magic, blood-thirsty barbarians." He did not look as disturbed by this as he professed, Harry noticed. In fact, he actually _wriggled _with excitement in his seat, an action that made him look about twelve years younger. "This is incredible. I can't believe you have all those spirits in your head. I though you being a werewolf was weird enough."

"I'm not a werewolf," Harry mumbled. "Remus is."

That was enough to bring Draco's rambling to a stop. "What?"

"That's why we need to get bodies soon. All their personalities are..._leaking_ into mine, and I may not be insane yet, but if this goes on much longer, I think I might be after a while. A person's head is not designed to hold more than one individual. And it's bad for Remus, too, because without the physical bodies to separate them, the wolf is getting more and more mixed with his human side as well."

"That's...really not good, Harry." The fact that Draco often forgot to address Harry by his first name (unless it was to annoy Ron) made his use of it now more poignant.

"Why do you think I was desperate enough to break you out of prison?"

"Great Salazar. How long do you have?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? This has never happened to anyone before!"

"Okay, okay. Calm down. You've got the book. You're well on your way. And if you swear to help me break my mother out as well, I swear I'll do everything to help you get your family bodies without – you know – accidentally rending a great tear in the fabric of reality or something." He sighed and shook his head. "I've had a look at some of the bits and pieces of the potions instructions Granger and Andromeda managed to decipher, and I can tell you now that it's not going to be easy. That's a Masters-level potion, and between us, we don't even have one full potions NEWT. Even if we did, I really think we need a Potions Master working on it if we don't want your head exploding or your soul melting or something equally horrific. I wish Professor Snape was still alive."

"Like he'd give a damn if I lived or died," Harry scoffed.

_:-He__'__d give a damn about whether Lily lived or died__,__-: _Remus pointed out.

Harry hesitated, Remus's comment bringing to mind the memories Snape had given him during the final battle. "You're right. He would."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Would what?"

"He would give a damn about whether my Mum lived or not. He was in love with her."

Draco made a sick face. "Snape in love? Oh god – I just had an image of him wanking. While thinking about your mother. Oh... I just sicked up in my mouth a bit."

Harry winced. "Don't! The images...Snape wanking...ergh..."

_:-Eew,-: _James moaned, sounding as though he were in some kind of mental agony.

_:-Still, it__'__s something to think about,-: _Remus said.

_:-No, Moony,-: _Sirius's voice was horrified. _:-It__'__s not. Why on earth would you want to think about it? Do you have some highly disturbing kink involving Snivellus and wanking that you haven__'__t told me about? Because much as I love you...-:_

_:-Not _that_,-: _Remus said hurriedly._ :-I meant about whether he would be willing to help. His portrait is at Hogwarts.-:_

There was a contemplative pause in Harry's head.

_:-Oh__,__-: _Sirius said.

"Oh," Harry repeated out loud.

"Oh what?" Draco asked.

"Snape's portrait is at Hogwarts."

"Oh." A slow smile spread across Draco's face. "_Oh._"

"So we have a deal?" Harry leant across the table to steal his cocoa back. "I help you get your mother back and you help me get mine? And the rest of my family?"

"We have a deal, Potter. Merlin help me."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Someone else needs to go shopping next time," Harry groaned as he slouched into the kitchen, dropped his shopping bags, and sunk into a chair with a damp squishing noise. "I was attacked again."

Hermione and Ron looked up from where they were poring over _Sacrum Obitus_ at the kitchen table, and Teddy gave a disturbingly Marauderish snigger from where he was hammering cheese sandwiches into the table of his highchair with small fists.

"Great Merlin, Potter." Draco's voice was heavy with amusement as he strolled into the kitchen, _The Daily Prophet_ under his arm. "What happened to you?"

"A couple of drunk ex-Slytherins who happened to be lurking next to a stall selling...well whatever these things are. I can only hope they're not poisonous."

"Unfortunately, those are snozzberries," Draco told him. "You're due to suffer the horrible fate of turning lime green, having your hair fall out, being unable to utter any word but 'snozz' for thirteen days after which you stop saying anything on account of being dead by full body explosion."

"_What?_"

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Hermione assured him while the Marauders hurried to back up her words in his head. "That was all rubbish. Except about turning lime green for a few hours. Snozzberries are usually used in wizarding sweets that change a child's mouth different colours. They're completely harmless. God, Malfoy, aren't you incapable of any normal human emotion? Why would you tell him something like that?"

_:-Black genes,-:_ Sirius said, sounding rather smug. Harry hoped he wasn't warming up to the Slytherin because god only knew what kind of insane mischief the two could get up to if they ever put their minds together. The world was lucky Sirius hadn't followed in his family's footsteps.

Draco shrugged, looking unrepentant. "This morning he told me I'd cut my hair crooked when it was, in fact, perfect. He deserved it."

"He told you your hair was crooked so you told him he was poisoned by a deadly berry and about to die by full body explosion? Do you even know the meaning of overreaction?"

"I hope you bought proper coffee this time," Draco said to Harry, ignoring Hermione. "That instant Muggle stuff you bought last week was vile. And I hope you're planning on taking a shower, because right now you smell incredibly cloying. I always hated snozzberries."

"If you don't like what I buy, you can do without," Harry snapped. The stress and bickering going on in this house for the past couple of weeks was fraying his nerves, and he couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. At least there he had places to escape to.

_:-And you guys should have told me those berries weren__'__t poisonous,-: _he added to his family.

_:-We__'__ve been trying to keep out of your way, Harry,-:_ Lily said meekly. _:-Like you asked.-:_

Harry felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered snapping at them earlier that morning for taking up too much room in his head. They'd buried themselves so deeply into his subconscious in apology that he'd almost forgotten they were there.

He groaned and slumped forward so his head rested on the table. "You guys still working on the translating?" he asked Ron and Hermione.

Teddy reached out with cheese smeared hands and grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair. "Harry green! Grrrrrr!"

"Yes," Hermione said. "Though we're reaching the end of what we can do. A lot of the rhymes I don't know – they must be older ones that weren't that common when I was a child. And some of the translating is a bit obscure. You really have to have a twisty mind to work out the clues."

"We're thinking we'll have to go out and buy all the nursery rhyme books we can and search for the ones we don't know," Ron added, looking distinctly gloomy. "It'll take ages."

"Or we could use the Internet," Harry said, trying not to tag on the silent 'obviously' to the sentence. "Teddy, please let go of my hair, mate. You're making my eyes water."

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. I'm so stupid in pressing situations."

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning at her in spite of himself as he disentangled small fingers from his hair. "Remember 'we don't have any wood!'"

"Don't remind me. I was eleven and still hadn't quite got my head around being a witch. Looks like I've now forgotten what it's like to be a Muggle."

"What's 'The Internet'?" Ron asked.

"It's like a giant library of information about everything in the Muggle world. It's stored by electricity. If you type your query into a search engine it will search the whole internet to find whatever information you need. Sort of like an _Accio_ charm for information. The internet is so huge there's no way anyone could get through all the information on it even if they lived a hundred lifetimes."

"This is nonsense," Draco interrupted. "There's no way Muggles could do that without magic. Besides, the wizarding world would have seen a library that size popping up somewhere."

"It's true!" Hermione insisted. "They use technology and electricity. It's not a storeroom of books and papers and physical stuff, it's a...virtual... store that can be accessed from a machine called a computer from anywhere in the world."

"Are you trying to tell me that Muggles have stored all this stuff in...in that electricity stuff that floats around waiting to be accessed by anyone?"

"Um..." Hermione looked a bit lost. "Sort of? I'm not sure exactly how it works. But it's not just a store of information. People can write each other messages that can be sent instantly from one side of the world to another with the Internet. In fact, they can talk to one another face to face from across the world like a floo. They can watch television. They can post photographs or stories or music. They can meet new people, or buy things that are then delivered to their door."

"That's incredible," Ron said, his eyes wide. "They can really do all that without magic?"

"In some ways, magic held our world back," Hermione said. "We didn't _need_ to be as ingenious as Muggles did in order to do the things we do."

"I refuse to believe this rubbish," Draco said. Harry glanced at him and was surprised to see him looking genuinely upset. "Everyone knows we're superior. We have magic!"

Hermione shrugged. "Believe what you like, Malfoy. We need the Internet to find these nursery rhymes, so I'm going to have to borrow my Mum's laptop and one of those horrendously expensive electricity converters from Diagon Alley so that it'll work in a magical environment."

_:-Does the internet really do all those things?-: _Remus asked, sounding intrigued. _:-I never had the chance to study it when I was alive what with everything going on_.-:

_:-You__'__ll have to take Hermione__'__s word for it,-: _Harry admitted. _:-I was never allowed to use Dudley__'__s computer__,__ so all I know about it is what I__'__ve heard about from other kids and from what I saw him doing. I bet Dad and Sirius would like computer games, though. -:_

_:-What are they?-: _James asked.

_:-I__'__ll explain later.-:_

Aloud he said, "I'll buy one, Hermione. Money is not a problem."

"Oh, 'money is not a problem'," Draco sneered, his voice bitter. "The golden boy is rolling in it, is he?"

Harry remembered the small pile of coins near the door of Draco's dangerous and homicidal family vault. "It's my inheritance, Draco," he said, forcing himself not to lose his temper. "From my dead parents and godfather. Believe me, I would rather have them back than all the money in the world."

Draco fell silent, then turned and stared out the window, his back to them.

Teddy whimpered and squirmed in his highchair, so Harry lifted him down, watching as the child toddled on unsteady legs towards Draco. He had no idea why Teddy liked Draco so much. As far as he could tell, the Slytherin treated his godson like some rare, protected animal that could erupt in unexpected ways unless treated with caution. Teddy latched onto a slim leg, and Draco's whole body froze uncertainly.

"Kindly remove you godson from my person, Potter."

"He's your cousin. You should get to know him." Harry felt a slight vindictive pleasure at how uncomfortable the other young man looked.

"D'aco," Teddy asserted and began tugging at his captive's borrowed robes, his eyes a wide, liquid amber that Harry often thought might be their real colour. They were too close to Remus's for it to be coincidence, and Harry had accidentally glimpsed a memory of Sirius's - in which Remus's eye colour was explored in great detail – to confirm this.

"I don't like children." Draco tried to strain away from Teddy without moving his leg.

Harry shrugged. "So you'll nip out and get your mother's computer?" he asked, turning back to Hermione. "And a converter? I'll pay you back, but I'm not going out again."

"Yes. I'll go in a minute, but before I do, I was wondering if anyone knew of a wizarding legend about a golden apple being stolen from some protected marble prison with a fountain? I think we need it for the potion. "

Ron frowned. "I've never heard of a story like that."

"Nor have James or Sirius," Harry added. "Is it part of a Muggle nursery rhyme?"

"No. That's what's strange. It's the whole rhyme. Not just a fragment like the others. Listen." Hermione pulled the book towards her.

"_In marble walls as white as milk, _

_Lined with skin as soft as silk; _

_Within a fountain crystal clear, _

_A golden apple doth appear. _

_No doors there are to this stronghold – _

_Yet thieves break in and steal the gold._"

She looked up. "And then it just adds in brackets after it: '_Two from those of scales and three heads.'_ What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry and Ron both shook their heads, confused. In his head, Harry's family seemed equally clueless.

_:-Maybe it__'__s a Muggle legend?-:_ James suggested.

Then Draco started laughing. They looked at him in alarm, and even Teddy stopped trying to scale his leg and his hair turned a questioning white-blonde.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Ron snapped.

"Egg," Draco said, then laughed again.

"What?"

"It's not a legend, you Gryffindor fools. It's a riddle. And the answer is 'an egg'. Two eggs, in fact, from a runespoor."

They stared at him.

"'_Two from those of scales and three heads__'_? Come on! You can't be that slow. Two eggs from a three-headed snake. A runespoor."

"My god, I think you're right," Hermione said, studying the book once more. "It's obvious now I look at it again."

Draco shook his head, gingerly pealing Teddy away from his leg and carrying him at arm's length to deposit on Harry's lap. "You are lucky to have me here. Decent coffee should be the least that I ask for."

"It is the least that you ask for," Ron pointed out. "You also want goats cheese, butterbeer, chocolate frogs, expensive shower gel, silk bed covers, and your mother broken out of prison. And you have no problem asking for all those. Loudly and frequently."

"Oh, go screw yourself, Weasley," Draco said, Ron's words not seeming to penetrate his aura of smugness in the slightest.

"Do we really need him?" Ron appealed to Harry.

"Desperately," Harry said, with no hint of sarcasm. His head was aching again, and it made him feel unsettled and dizzy, as well as being in pain. Almost as though his brain was trying to pull itself apart and inhabit more than one space at a time.

He thought Draco might have been adding something else but he couldn't really hear over the roaring in his ears. He dipped his head to press his nose against Teddy's soft (and currently blonde) hair and wished more than anything that this would be over soon.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

The introduction of the Internet to Grimmauld Place resulted in a number of different and unexpected discoveries. Firstly, the translation of _Sacrum Obitus_ sped along at a breakneck pace when all one had to do was type the provided line of the nursery rhyme into Google (although some of the meanings were a lot more obscure and bent Harry's brain into some uncomfortable shapes as he tried to figure them out). Secondly, Hermione revealed herself to be rather disturbingly good at hacking into their Muggle next door neighbour's password protected wireless Internet connection.

Lastly (but by no means leastly), Draco Malfoy, of all people, developed an unhealthy obsession with the Internet, the computer, and all things electric. It had started out as disbelief. He couldn't bring himself to accept that Muggles could do the things as they did without magic. Then it was denial – he hijacked the computer from Hermione for hours on end, determined to prove that the Internet didn't do everything it promised and that it was all some elaborate trick put together by the Gryffindors to mess with his head.

Now, unless Harry was very much mistaken, it was fear. Draco was genuinely afraid of what Muggles were capable of. He had been brought up believing Muggles were lower life forms – little more than savages who tried to be as good as wizards but had no hope of succeeding. Now he was suddenly learning about computers, cars, aeroplanes, phones, guns – even rockets (he had been struck silent in shock for a whole day after Hermione causally informed him there were Muggles living in satellites floating in space above the earth and people wandering around on the moon). For the first time, Harry thought the other young man was realising that the wizarding world's strict rule against letting Muggles know about it might be just as much for their own protection as for the Muggles'.

The fear was further exacerbated by the fact that Draco had no wand – he was helpless against a Muggle if one chose to attack him. He could now be found curled up in nooks and crannies throughout the house, gulping down Muggle books on weapons, electronics, history, electricity, and anything else he could persuade Hermione to provide for him.

"Know your enemy," he muttered to Harry one evening after he missed dinner in favour of reading more about the dangers of microwave ovens while curled up in the window seat of the second floor landing.

"They're not your enemy, Draco," Harry said, handing him a bowl of potato and leek soup. "Most of them have no idea we even exist. And you could stop one as easily with _Avada Kedavra_ as they could stop you with a gun."

"No I couldn't," Draco said, his eyes rather wild. "I still have to say or think the words of the spell. It takes much less time to pull a trigger. Great Merlin, Granger is probably more dangerous than the Dark Lord. Half Muggle, half witch."

_:-It__'__s cabin fever,-: _Sirius put in helpfully. _:-The thought of being stuck in this house with no hope of escape for the foreseeable future. It drives you crazy.-:_

_:-I guess now__'__s not the time to remind him that old Voldie was a halfblood,-: _James added.

"Hermione doesn't even kill spiders she finds in her bed," Harry assured him. "She catches them in toilet rolls and lets them out the window. I'm sure you're safe from her."

_:-Tell him about your idea,-: _Lily suggested. _:-Maybe that will help-:_

Harry nodded. "I've got an idea for what to do with you when Hermione and I go back to teaching at Hogwarts next week."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Stay here, don't go out and get caught. Help work on the translation. Anything else you need, Master Harry?" The last was said in a poor imitation of a house elf's voice.

"I never said you had to do any of those things," Harry said defensively. He had a brief picture flash up in his mind of Sirius wandering trapped and gaunt through the rooms of this house, unable to go outside, with nothing to do except translations or research for the Order. "In fact, I don't think that would be particularly advantageous to anyone. What I thought was that you could come to Hogwarts with me."

"Oh yes, there's a brilliant idea. Draco 'The Evil Death Eater's Son' Malfoy wandering into Hogwarts on the heels of the new Slytherin Harry Potter. They're _really_ going to believe you have nothing to do with Barty Crouch and his Dementor-exploding minions."

"You'll be under the invisibility cloak, you idiot," said Harry. "I thought that while we were in lessons you could talk to Professor Snape's portrait and find out more about what you'll need to know to brew the potion."

It was impossible not to see the way Draco's eyes lit up at the thought of talking to his old teacher and mentor – even if it was only the portrait version.

"And," Harry continued, "if you use my cloak, you can have free run of the castle and the grounds."

"Really?" Draco looked wistful and slightly suspicious. "You'd trust me not to make a run for it the moment you back was turned?"

Harry shrugged. "The way I see it, you need us as much as we need you."

"All right," Draco said, closing his book. "If that's what you want then I'd better go pack for Monday."

"Pack what?" Harry asked. "All you have are the few clothes we bought for you. I've got a better idea. I'm going to introduce you to the Muggle world."

"I don't need an introduction." Draco shuddered. "I've been learning about it for days."

"Exactly." Harry shoved Draco's feet off the window seat and sat down beside him. "I want to show you that the Muggle world isn't all guns, rockets, and nuclear bombs. I'm taking you to the cinema. Well disguised, of course."

"What's that?" Draco asked suspiciously. "If you think I'm letting you drag me gallivanting around the Muggle world doing stupid Gryffindorish things like – I don't know – going into space or whatever, you're sorely mistaken."

"It's where you watch films, you pointy git."

"Films? A bunch of Muggle idiots acting like another imaginary bunch of Muggle idiots. Sounds thrilling."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Malfoy."

"What happened to 'Draco'? '_Ooooh! Draco!__'_" he fluttered his eyelashes mockingly.

Harry snorted in disgust. "God, you're annoying. I don't know why I bother." He stood up to leave.

"Oi, Potter!" When he turned, Draco grinned, an odd, unexpected expression on his usually refined features. "It's a date. And you're paying."

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"I can't believe you're planning on taking him to the cinema," Hermione said, while Ron glowered beside her. "Are you insane? You start work again in three days. You should be lesson planning."

"I'm not doing it because I _want_ to," Harry explained. "He's going completely psycho about all this Muggle stuff, and we need to try and calm him down so he'll turn his mind to more important things. Namely getting some bodies for my family. To tell you the truth, I'm desperate. We have to get his mind right so he's fully on board with this project. One mistake, one slip-up, and there's no telling what might happen to five vulnerable souls in one body."

"Why _him_," Ron protested. "Why are we relying on the ferret? We should ask George. He's good at potions as well."

"Oh, come on," Harry said. "You know as well as I do that George is either insane or haunted by the ghost of his twin. He has his own problems to worry about."

"But the _cinema_?" Hermione repeated. "Why there of all places?"

Harry shrugged. "It shows technology begin used in a good and – most importantly – non-violent way. Plus, it's a good way of getting a glimpse into how Muggles live their lives. I get the impression he thinks they all sit around designing new bombs and guns all day."

"Well," Hermione said, still looking uncertain. "I suppose it depends on what film you show him."

"I'm not an idiot. It's a romantic comedy. A bit girly, but lacking in explosions and dead people."

"I still think – "

Hermione broke off as Draco sauntered into the kitchen wearing some of Harry's best clothes (which he had obviously stolen after a wardrobe raid) and an unfamiliar face surrounded by a mop of light brown hair. Harry was glad to see the store-bought Polyjuice potion appeared to be as effective as freshly brewed.

"Ready, _Harry_?" he said, smirking at Ron's expression.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said. He glanced down at what Hermione was working on. "Hey - you're not doing lesson planning either!"

"No," she said meaningfully, "_I__'__m_ working hard on translating this stupid book. Which reminds me – is there a type of potions spoon that's made from the moon?" She glanced at Draco questioningly.

He looked thoughtful, and Harry was glad to see the animosity between the two of them had dimmed since Hermione had begun providing Draco books on the Muggle world. "There's a type of spoon used in rare delicate potions procedures called a 'selenule spoon'. It's made from silver metal that goblins magically forge with moonlight. Is that what they mean?"

"I should think so," Hermione said, tapping away at the laptop's keyboard. "The full rhyme is:

"_Sippity sup, sippity sup, _

_Bread and milk from a china cup._

_Bread and milk from a bright silver spoon_

_Made of a piece of the bright silver moon. _

_Sippity sup, sippity sup, Sippity, sippity sup"_

"It's got _seven times anticlockwise_ after it, and they had given us all the lines except for the ones about the spoon, so it makes sense that we're looking for it rather than the cup, the bread or the milk."

"Well, those spoons are bloody expensive," Draco told her. "We'd better hope Potter's funds are as bottomless as the press makes out." He shot Harry a contemplative glance. "Though if his wardrobe is anything to go by, I'd say you can wave your spoon goodbye."

"There's nothing wrong with my wardrobe!"

"Oh please. Half your clothes are so worn and ratty, it looks like you got Lupin's Muggle hand-me-downs. I've seen better dressed hags."

"I have a few nice things as well," Harry said defensively.

"I know. I'm wearing them."

_:-I get the feeling this is going to be a long evening,-: _James commented.

_:-If the urge to strangle him gets any worse, one of you lot can take over. The things I do for family.-:_

The journey there was uneventful, and aside from Draco's gaping and his regular bouts of nerves when a Muggle handled anything that looked even slightly gun-like (so far including mobile phones, pens, wallets, and a hotdog), they finally found themselves sitting side-by-side towards the back of the cinema.

"It stinks in here," Draco hissed. "And the floor is sticky. That fat bloke over there keeps giving me dodgy looks, and this popcorn tastes like old socks. If this is supposed to endear me to Muggles, it's failing dismally. I reckon we should just –"

He broke off as the curtains hiding the screen swept back and massive, multi-coloured, high definition trailer burst onto the screen. His expression was a picture – mouth open, eyes wide, hands gripping the arms of his chair.

To both Harry and his family's relief, Draco appeared to have been struck dumb, and the affliction remained as the film itself started. Harry allowed himself to relax, sit back, and enjoy the film himself which was rather saccharine in an oddly satisfying way. Because of his relaxed state, he almost jumped out of his skin in shock when Draco suddenly grabbed him arm in a knife-like grip "Mordred and Morgana, Potter, what were you thinking?"

Harry gaped. "You what? What are you talking about? And keep your voice down. People are looking."

"Of course they're looking!" Draco made no attempt to lower his voice. "We're in some sort of...of...peverted, kinky _sex _cinema! I can't believe you did this to me! That'll teach me to trust bloody Gryffindors!"

_:-Oh.-: _Remus said suddenly. _:-Ooooh. Harry, I think we__'__d better leave.-:_

_:-It__'__s not like we__'__ll have much choice in the matter,-: _Harry grumbled back, flushing in humiliation as a cinema attendant sternly motioned for them to leave. He grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him out.

"Let go of me, Potter, you freak!" he yelled as Harry pulled him from the cinema. "Is this your idea of some sort of sick joke? You think it's _funny_?"

"What is your _problem_?" Harry demanded as he showed Draco roughly down on a bench on the pavement outside the cinema. "I've never been so embarrassed in my life – And I'm the person _Witch Weekly_ got naked pictures of last year!"

_:-Calm down, Harry,-: _Lily appealed. _:-The poor boy is upset-:_

_:-I can see that. I just don__'__t know _why_!-:_

_:-It was the gay couple in the film,-: _Remus supplied. _:-Draco was brought up in a very old and traditional wizarding family. Homosexuality is very taboo in the wizarding world. Sirius and I should know. It__'__s hardly ever spoken of, and if it is, it__'__s in derogatory terms. Gay people are considered to be as perverse in the wizarding world as paedophiles are in the Muggle one.-: _

_:-Oh.-: _Harry look at Draco sitting on the bench. The other young man was curled in on himself, his face tight and fierce, his still-gaunt elbows and knees clenched. _I can__'__t believe you did this to me, _he had said. _Do you think it__'__s funny?_ A suspicion was beginning to form in the back of Harry's mind.

"Draco?"

"What?" Draco asked bitterly. "You finished having a laugh with your stupid family?" He rapped his knuckles hard on his own forehead.

"You do know that it's okay to be gay in the Muggle world don't you?" Harry struggled to find the correct way to explain. "That wasn't a..._dirty_ film or whatever you thought it was. It was a romantic comedy. It was designed to be enjoyed by families – including children. There _are_ people in the Muggle world who think being gay is wrong, because that's just how humans are, but most people are fine with it. Gay people can even get married in a lot of countries."

"Married?" Draco's voice was strangled.

"Well, in this country they call it a civil partnership or something, I think. I can't say I'm an expert. It just didn't occur to me that things were different in the wizarding world." And wasn't that odd? Harry thought. He had lived most of his life in the wizarding world, and some things still made him feel like an outsider – a trespasser. Things _still_ surprised him. "It just doesn't make sense," he continued. "You have Veelas intermarrying with wizards, you have werewolves and vampires. You have a legend about a witch who shagged a _tree_, and yet you're against being gay."

"It's just not _done_. Males aren't designed to be with other males and females aren't designed to be with other females. It's not right!"

"Some are though," Harry said, thinking protectively of Remus and Sirius. "Some people are designed to be attracted to their own gender. It's just the way things are. It's not _wrong_. Two of my favourite people in the world are gay."

"Hah! I knew Granger was hiding something. Sneaky Muggle witch...or – you know - wizard. And the sad thing is she - he - could _still_ do better than Weasley."

Harry shook his head. "Not Hermione, you fool. I assure you she's all female."

Draco obviously couldn't resist a leer at that, in spite of himself.

"Oh stop it." Harry sighed. "I should have guessed. If wizards were going to get upset about something as stupid as blood purity, I shouldn't be surprised that they're homophobic as well."

_:-Not all of us,-: _James put in.

Draco was silent again, elbows on knees, head down, hands visibly shaking in spite of his determinedly mocking front.

"Draco..." Harry was hesitant. "Are you gay? Is that why you thought I was messing with you?"

"_What_?" When Draco lifted his head to look at Harry, his face was a ghastly colour. His grey eyes were wide and haunted, reminding Harry disturbingly of Sirius's. It was at moments like these the family resemblance was uncanny. "No. _No_. Of course not. Why would you...?" He broke off. "You know what? I don't have to listen to this. I'll make my own way back."

"Wait!" Harry stood up and tried to make a grab for him, but he side-stepped and started hurrying away. "It's dangerous! You could get hurt!"

"Bite me!"

_:-Let him go, love,-: _Lily said,_ :-He__'__ll be fine. He has a lot to think about.-:_

_:-Like what?-: _Harry fumed. _:-Evil, pointy little bugger. I was just trying to help.-:_

_:-He__'__s been given a lot to think about,-:_ Remus explained. _:-He was so determined to believe everything about Muggles was wrong and dangerous. Now he__'__s found out that if he lived in their world, he would be accepted __–__ for the most part __–__ for who he is.-:_

_:-What are you talking about?-:_ Harry wondered if he had even been hearing the same conversation. _:-He said he wasn__'__t gay.-: _

_:-Of course he did. It__'__s not easy to come clean about something you__'__ve hidden all your life.-:_

_:-So he is?-:_

_:-Does it matter?-:_ Remus asked.

Harry shrugged, wondering why it did. _:-I guess not.-:_


	17. The Three Descendents

**The Three Descendents**

The strange thing, Harry thought, was that he was actually relieved to be going back to work at Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays. It was odd considering how terrified he'd been of starting at the beginning of the year. The truth was he was tired of the full-on stress of translating _Sacrum Obitus. _He was tired of being persecuted and hounded in the streets for his new post of Head of Slytherin, or avoiding reporters who wanted to know if he'd joined Crouch and his followers.

And he actually missed teaching, much to his surprise. He missed the challenge of keeping reluctant students engaged in his lessons. He missed the evenings he spent with little Alex and Daniel as they hid out in his rooms. And he missed Hogwarts itself, which had been what he really thought of as home since he'd been eleven years old.

The Christmas holidays hadn't exactly been sherry-soaked in festive spirit either. Christmas day had passed by with only an obligatory nod towards gift-giving and decorating which involved a spindly tree on which hung few gothic-looking baubles Kreacher had dug out from the depths of the attic, along some lurid green and silver tinsel which turned out to be infested with doxies.

It had only been Draco and Harry in Grimmauld Place on Christmas morning, and Draco had been gobsmacked that Harry had given him a present (though it has only been a cheap thriller novel he'd spotted Draco eyeing up in a _Daily Prophet _advert and a box of shortbread). Draco, as a result, spent the rest of Christmas day in a sulk because Harry had not warned him he would be giving a gift, and as a result forced him to break the rules of pureblood Christmas etiquette or some other such nonsense – though Harry did notice that he took his new book with him when he stalked up to his room.

Right now, on the train back to Hogwarts, Harry felt his stomach buzzing with the same nervous anticipation he used to get after coming back from a summer spent with the Dursleys.

"Kindly stop bouncing," Dracos voice said, from underneath the Invisibility Cloak on the seat beside him. "You're making me even more travelsick."

Harry just laughed. The revelation that Draco got travelsick had been worth the resulting whining. "Sit next to Hermione if it bothers you."

"No. Because then I'll be going backwards, which is even worse, and I'll be in range of her pointy elbows."

"You have no right to accuse anyone of having pointy limbs of any kind."

"Shut up a moment, you two," Hermione said, and they did because the tone of her voice was rather alarming. She had been sitting quietly for most of the journey with _Sacrum Obitus_ resting on her knees and their translation notebook balanced precariously on the arm of her seat.

She was now scribbling furiously, the page filling with her quick, cramped handwriting. After several long minutes in which Harry and Draco waited with bated breath, she sat back and put a trembling hand over her mouth.

"What is it?" Harry asked in alarm.

"Oh Harry. I'm sorry."

"What? What?"

"I've just found something awful about the ceremony."

Harry's heart dropped like a stone to lodge deep in his stomach. "Awful? Oh God, I don't have to kill anyone do I?"

"No. I meant awful for you."

"For Salazar's sake, Granger, spit it out!" Draco's voice was strangled, and Harry wondered how much of that was travel sickness and how much was the feeling of impending doom that had lodged in his own belly as well.

"It's taken a while for me to work out with this patchwork of nursery rhymes, but I've got it now. I'm so sorry, but I can't think of any easy way to say this. It says here that in order to perform the ceremony the three last direct descendants of the Peverell brothers need to be there together doing part of it."

Harry felt as though his insides had been magically banished. "You're joking."

"I wouldn't joke about something like this, Harry. You know that."

There was an uproar in Harry's head, and the Marauders and Lily were talking so fast and loudly that he couldn't make out individual voices. It was over. He would have to choose between going insane or letting them go. All this work, all his hopes and anticipation...

"So this has all been for nothing," he whispered. "We know Alex Goldrod is descended from the oldest brother, but Cadmus's line died out with the Gaunts."

"No, Harry. I'm sure we can come up with something..."

"Some way of getting round a ceremony that was invented by Death, you mean?" Harry snapped. "Oh, I'm sure there are _plenty_ of those."

A long, helpless silence fell between them.

_:-You__'__ll have to let us go, love,-: _Lily whispered in his mind. _:-If we__'__re here too much longer your mind will break under the pressure.-:_

"No!"

_:-Harry...-:_

"No!"

_:-Can I take over for a minute?-: _Remus asked meekly, then in true Remus style, gently, but firmly, took over without waiting for another resounding 'No!'

"You're all overreacting," he said out loud, using Harry's voice.

There was brief pause as both Hermione and Draco registered Harry's change of tone and accent.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione questioned.

"Remus, please, Hermione. You would not believe the ribbing I get in here when you call me that."

Draco sniggered, earning himself the kind of professor-y glare that Harry had never quite managed to perfect in spite of half a year of teaching.

"How are we overreacting, Remus?" Hermione asked.

"So far, Ignotus Peverell and Aelfgifu have predicted everything correctly – Harry's existence, his desperate need to be able to bring us back fully to life, the fact he was brought up as a Muggle and would be familiar with their nursery rhymes, the existence of the rhymes themselves…all of it. What makes you think they didn't predict this as well?"

"Of course they didn't," Hermione said. "It says here that the descendents of the Peverell brothers will be drawn together as soon as the time nears for the magical ceremony to take place. Have you felt magnetically drawn to anyone, Harry? Besides, all the Gaunt family are dead. You can't draw together people who don't actually exist."

"Ah." Remus sounded almost amused. "The flaw in your logic there is that you are assuming that every direct descendent of Cadmus upheld the virtues of fidelity in the same way that you do."

A fly buzzed around the train compartment and Draco groaned and lurched forward in his seat again at a particularly sharp corner. "If you can't talk sense, Lupin, kindly let someone else possess Potter's body."

Sirius moved to take control . "He's saying that somewhere along the line, a Gaunt shagged someone who wasn't their spouse and created an illegitimate branch in the family tree," he translated.

Harry felt like a puppet whose strings have been suddenly cut. His whole body sagged in relief and a sharp jerk from the train sent him slumping against Draco's invisible form.

"Great Salazar, you weigh a ton," Draco moaned. "What do you eat? Granite?" He pushed feebly against one of Harry's shoulders then seemed to give up. Harry felt a stab of worry. Draco's body still felt way too skinny and breakable against his own. The other young man's carefully cultivated sarcasm and pureblood manner created a very effective shield around his physical form, and Harry reminded himself that he should make an effort to actually _look_ at him from time to time to check he wasn't starving himself or something equally stupid.

_:-Why do you care?-: _Sirius asked, sounding curious rather than accusing, much to Harry's surprise.

Harry shrugged, pulling himself away from Draco. _:-If I don__'__t look out for him, nobody will. And I mean nobody.-:_

_:-That still doesn__'__t make him your responsibility.-:_

_:-Yes it does.-:_

Harry felt Remus lean forward to give him a mental half-hug. _:-Leave him alone, Sirius. He__'__s like our Lily. It__'__s just the way he is.-: _There was some deeper kind of understanding in Remus's voice that Harry decided not to explore at that moment.

"So what you're saying," Hermione said, looking at Harry (though who she was actually addressing was anyone's guess), "is that we need to find a spell to trace a direct descendent of Cadmus Peverell who was never traced through the Gaunt line? Is there such a spell?"

"Dozens," both Draco and Sirius-with-Harry's-mouth said promptly. They exchanged a quick glance of understanding – something that would never have happened even a week previously. Harry wondered if this could be considered to be one of the signs of the apocalypse.

"Bloodlines are very important to old pureblood families," Draco elaborated. "They will go to great lengths to ensure that they remain pure and that tabs are kept on as many bastard branches as possible. You never know when they'll come in useful."

"Well." Hermione looked down at her translation notebook with a bemused expression on her face. "I really never thought that I would be grateful for pureblood fanaticism, but I guess we all live and learn."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Facing a class of fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws wasn't Harry's idea of an easy transition back into teaching after a stressful holiday. This year's fifth years were a difficult bunch – many of them having families that had been strongly affected by the events of the war with Voldemort. As a result, they tended to be hardened and cynical; traits that were even evident in the usually robust Gryffindor personality.

They slouched in at nine 'o clock and slumped at their desks, looking about as happy to be awake and ready for work as Harry was.

"Right," he said, making an effort to sound upbeat and cheerful in the hope that it was contagious. "I know that we were a bit heavy on the theory side of things last term, so you'll probably all be glad to know we're going to be concentrating on the practical this time around. The first thing we're going to be focussing on is defence against dangerous magical creatures. I've been working with your Care of Magical Creatures professor to try and synchronise your lessons to give you the most well-rounded understanding of these creatures."

There was a faint muttering rising from the back of the class, and both the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were shifting meaningfully in their seats. Harry did his best to ignore it.

"We'll be starting small and moving on from there. First up is Grindylows."

"_Grindylows_?" Martin Hulbert, a Ravenclaw sitting near the front of the class, slapped his hands down hard on his desk, and it was only years of training himself not to flinch at Uncle Vernon's sudden bellows that enabled Harry to react calmly.

"If you have a question. Martin, please raise your hand."

"You're seriously going to sit around here teaching us rubbish about _Grindylows_ while there is a serious war brewing out in the world?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "It's on your fifth year syllabus. It'll be coming up in your exams."

"_Screw_ the damn syllabus," a Gryffindor boy called Toby Berring interrupted. "Are you saying that you – _Harry Potter,_ the defeater of You-Know-Who and chosen saviour of the Wizarding World are going to hide out here in the safety of Hogwarts while other people fight? People are _dying_: my cousin, Sally's older sister, Jeremy's uncle. They're saying Crouch is forming an army of Dementors. He's the only man in the world who knows how to kill them so they'll do anything he says. Do you even care?"

"Of course I care," Harry said, feeling his temper flare. "But I'm not an Auror. I'm a teacher. My part in this battle is to teach the students of Hogwarts to defend themselves."

"You're Harry Potter!" Kerry, a Gryffindor girl, called from the back of the class. "It's your _duty _to protect us!"

There was a rather shocked silence from everyone in the room and Harry had the feeling that the class had suddenly realised they had gone too far.

_:-I__'__ll kill the little devils!-: _James seethed in Harry's mind. _:-How dare they?-:_

_:-It__'__s human nature,-: _Remus said. _:-People always look for someone to save them, and if that person fails, they will be blamed. Humans are a cruel race sometimes.-:_

_:-Bet you__'__re glad to be able to distance yourself from us sometimes, huh, Moony?-: _said Sirius, but his voice held no trace of humour.

"Why?" Harry said aloud into the deafening silence. "Why do you think that I – a young man who is only a few years older than yourselves, and who has no outstanding talents or abilities – has a duty to save the world?"

There was another long silence, then Kerry said; "You did it before."

"So just because I – through a mixture of desperation and dumb luck – managed to trick Voldemort into offing himself once, I have to do it again every time a new threat arises?"

"You're _destined_ to be the saviour," Martin said.

"No one is destined to do anything they haven't chosen themselves. The only reason I was orphaned and grew up with a homicidal maniac after me was because Voldemort decided to believe in _destiny_. I was forced into the role of saviour, and let me tell you, I'd have given it up in a second if anyone had given me the choice. I suffered and died for this world once. Are you seriously asking me to do it again?"

"If you don't, who else will?" Kerry asked.

"You," Harry said.

"What?"

"I was going to wait to tell you, Kerry, but Professor Trelawney had a new psychic vision this morning. She predicted that you would be the one to defeat Crouch once and for all."

There was a deathly silence from everyone in the class. Kerry's face had gone the colour of old porridge.

"W-what?"

"Yes. I'm really sorry, but this time around it's not me, it's you. We're all going to be relying on you to save the Wizarding World."

"But..." Kerry looked aghast and her classmates appeared to be in shock. "I don't know anything about defeating dark wizards! Who will teach me?"

"No one can teach you these things, I'm afraid. You have to pick them up as you go along."

She actually swayed in her seat. "I might die!"

"Yes you might. But at least you can die knowing you're doing it for the good of our world."

"Hang on a minute," Martin interrupted. "How do you know it's definitely Kerry?"

"Oh, I'm afraid there's no doubt. The exact words were: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dementor Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dementor Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dementor Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_."

"_Neither can live while the other survives_?" Kerry's friend, Phoebe, asked in a whisper. "What does that mean?"

"It means that she is destined either to kill Crouch or be killed by him."

Kerry started to cry and was soon followed by a number of other girls in the class. The rest looked shell-shocked. Harry suddenly felt horribly, horribly guilty.

"Hang on one moment," Phoebe said, sitting up straight in her chair. "Kerry wasn't born at the end of July! And I _know _her parent have never met Crouch. You're lying! It isn't her!"

Twenty-three accusing faces stared at Harry, wide-eyed.

"It's _not_ me?" Kerry hiccoughed.

Harry sighed. "No, Kerry. It's not."

"Then who is it?"

"Me. That was the prophecy made about me before I was born. I first heard it in my fifth year – the same year you are now. Obviously the words were actually 'Dark Lord', not 'Dementor Lord' because it was referring to Voldemort."

"But...why did you say it was m-me?"

"How did you feel when I told you that prophecy was about you?" Harry asked. "How did it feel when you thought that you – a fifth year with no extraordinary talents – was responsible for saving the whole Wizarding World by either killing someone or dying yourself?"

Kerry ducked her head, her hair falling forward to shield her face. "Awful. It wasn't fair."

"No. It wasn't," Harry agreed. "But for me, it wasn't a lie. For me, that was my life. And I did it, you know. I gave up everything for the Wizarding World – my parents, my godfather, many of my friends, my childhood, my own life. And here I am, trying to put together my life as best I can, and you are sitting here telling me it's my destiny to go out there into the new war and do it all again. I'm _Harry Potter_ after all. It's what I do. I don't deserve a normal life because once you've saved the world, it obviously becomes your responsibility to give up your life to do it again and again and again. Because if I don't, no one will, right? That's what you were saying, wasn't it?"

No one would meet his eyes, and there were definite signs of guilt in more than one face. Kerry, in fact, looked positively torn up by it, and Harry made a mental note to apologise to her properly later on.

Eventually, Martin raised his hand.

"What?" Harry said tiredly.

"You know, I _have_ always wanted to learn about Grindylows."

_:-And I thought Moony was good at playing the guilt card,-: _Sirius commented, his voice holding just a shade of amusement.

Harry shrugged inwardly, trying to quash down the feeling deep in his belly that these kids were right and he _should_ be out there fighting. _:-Well, I did learn from the best, eh, Professor Lupin?-:_

_:-I have no idea what you__'__re talking about__,__-:_ Remus said serenely.


	18. Blood Spells and Bake Sales

**Sorry for the long wait. Having a real job has really cut into my writing time, but I'm not giving up on my fanfiction, don't worry! Love to all my loyal readers. **

**Also, I apologise for the format of the family tree. I had it in a much clearer one in MS Word, but it all got screwed up when I loaded up the document onto this site. I have no idea how to fix it. Hope it still makes sense!  
**

**Moonsign X**

**WARNING: Reference to past non-con in this chapter. Very brief, but I thought I would warn any sensitive readers just in case. **

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**Blood Spells and Bake Sales**

Harry hadn't really considered the logistics of the matter when he invited Draco to come to Hogwarts with him. For one thing, he hadn't thought about the living arrangements. Harry's private quarters at Hogwarts consisted of only three rooms – a bathroom, a bedroom and a living area that served as a mixture of sitting room and study.

Because there was a chance that the other professors might want to drop in to visit Harry in the evenings or on weekends, they couldn't risk any sign of Draco to be in evidence in the living room. As a result, Harry had transfigured another bed for him in his own bedroom, and the resulting lack of privacy only highlighted the complete lack of personal space in every aspect of his life. His family were always in his head, and Draco was always outside it.

Sharing a bedroom was a little like living in dorms again, except that none of his dorm mates had ever been quite as uniquely irritating and fascinating as Draco was. Being Gryffindors, they had been a fairly straight-forward bunch, and Harry always knew where he stood with them.

Draco, on the other hand, seemed to take a perverse pleasure in being as unpredictable and head-screwy as possible. In the week that they had been back at Hogwarts, Harry felt that he had more of an insight into how the Slytherin mind worked than he had ever believed possible.

It was Saturday evening, and the first week of term was over. Harry was sitting at his desk, frowning through a headache as he struggled to mark the twenty sixth year assignments he had set his students to do over Christmas. Draco was lounging on the sofa in front of the fire, knee crooked over the arm and pale eyebrows furrowed, apparently absorbed in a copy of Charles Dicken's _Great Expectations_. Harry wasn't quite sure what effect this would have on the other young man's Muggle education since he had never managed to get a grip the archaic language of the novel, but Hermione had assured him it would do something towards teaching Draco compassion. Since Harry was sure Draco was incapable of the emotion, he wasn't holding out a great deal of hope.

He was in the middle of counting the assignments he still had to mark (in the hope that a few of them would have magically dissolved since he counted them ten minutes before), when Draco suddenly looked up and dramatically declared, "I don't get it!"

Harry glanced at him, secretly glad of the distraction. "Well, don't look at me. I couldn't get past the first page."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. I get the storyline. I just don't get Miss Havisham."

Harry stared at him blankly.

"She gets abandoned by her fiancé on her wedding day. Fine. She is so traumatised by this that she spends the rest of her life in her wedding dress with one shoe on and one off and the wedding feast rotting around her. Fine, I get that, too. She adopts a girl to bring up as a daughter. Fine. Then she teaches the girl to hate all men and do everything in her power to break their hearts in revenge for what happened to her. Now that, I don't get."

"Er...why?" Harry asked, wondering if he should have given the novel a bit more of a chance. It sounded interesting in a disturbing sort of way. "It makes sense to me."

"If she wanted to get revenge on all men, why does she spend her whole live mooning over one dressed in an ancient wedding dress?"

"I don't know why you're asking me," Harry said. "Women are a mystery. It's practically the rule that we don't understand them."

"But this book was written by a man."

"For heaven's sake, Malfoy, I don't know. I've got a god-awful awful headache and all these assignments to mark. Go and discuss literary things with Hermione, why don't you?"

"All right." Draco closed the book and sat up straighter. "So you don't want to talk literature. How about we talk about the Slytherins?"

Harry groaned. "I don't want to talk about anything, you git. Particularly Slytherins."

"There!" Draco actually pointed at Harry accusingly. "I knew it! You're just as prejudiced as the rest of them."

Harry laid down his quill, dropped his head forward onto his desk, and wished that someone would just have a decency to knock him unconscious until everything he was supposed to be dealing with went away.

"What," he said tiredly, his voice muffled by the table, "are you going on about now? I'm bloody Head of Slytherin House."

"Exactly! And what have you actually done for them over the last year – aside from inflaming the war already brewing between them and the other Houses by accepting the post, of course."

Harry paused, suddenly made aware by the tone of Draco's voice that this was something that had obviously been bothering him for a while. "I do stuff for them."

"Like what? You do the bare minimum required of a Head of House. You never think about them unless you have to. Did you think it would be enough to just sit there looking all noble and Gryffindorish and everyone would say 'Oh right! They're all actually good people!'"

Draco's voice was becoming quite shrill, as it had a tendency to do when he was arguing about something he was passionate about – like the idiocy of Gryffindors, the unfairness of his life, or the brand of shower gel Harry mistakenly bought last week. Harry winced and pressed a hand to his head.

"I don't know! I've had other things on my mind – as you well know."

"Then you shouldn't have taken on the role," Draco snapped. "It's unfair, and those children were relying on you."

Harry very much doubted it. The Slytherins, if nothing else, were an independent lot, taught from an early age not to rely on anyone but themselves.

Draco, apparently, could read thoughts. "They may not know it now, but they do need you," he added, more quietly. "I was in their common room the other day – no, don't yell at me, I was under you cloak and I was careful – and some of the older ones were talking about what they were going to do when they left school. It's a pretty grim prospect for them at the moment, I can tell you. Especially with all this Crouch business going on."

_:-__Interfering little git,-:_ James fumed in Harry's mind. :-_What right does he have to tell you what to do?-:_

_:-__No right, maybe,-:_ Remus sighed_, :-but he has a point. Harry did take on this duty, and we've all allowed him to forget about it while we work to get us new bodies.-:_

_:-__It's important!-: _

_:-__So are the futures of these children. Listen to me for a minute, Prongs. I love you dearly – you and Sirius both – but neither of you ever really had time to become adults. You still think like you used to at twenty-one. When you get older you begin to realise that things like Houses and family and class don't matter. You begin to see people differently. You begin, most importantly, to see children as children.-:_

_:-__I know what children are,-: _Sirius protested_._

_:-__That's not what I meant, Padfoot. I mean that you are used to looking at children and seeing people who are on the same level as you – only a couple of years younger, more than capable of thinking the way you do. But you have to realise that you're both adults now. Children rely on us – all children, even Slytherin ones – as decent human beings, to have a duty of care towards them.-: _

"Well?" Draco said. "What's the family consensus?"

Harry blinked and raised his head to look at Draco. It was oddly comforting to be having a conversation with someone who understood that anyone talking to him had a speak-to-one-and-four-others-hear-for-free kind of deal.

"You're right." It was surprisingly easy to say, and Harry wondered what his own child-self would have made of this agreeable relationship with his rival. "I need to think of something to begin making people see them differently. It just," he shrugged, "sank to the bottom of my priority list." Remus nudged him pointedly in the back of his mind. "Sorry," he added, grudgingly.

"Well," Draco said leaning forward. "What are you going to do then to rally support for the oppressed underdogs? This should be right up your street."

Harry ground his aching brain into gear. "Er...I don't know." For some reason a memory rose in his head of being forced to sit in his cupboard as a child, stomach growling as the scent of cakes and biscuits rose from the kitchen. Aunt Petunia always took part in the community bake sale to raise money for underprivileged children – the irony of which was lost on seven-year-old Harry at the time. "A bake sale?" he offered.

There was a bemused silence from both Draco and his mental companions.

"A bake sale." Draco's tone could have dried up the Great Lake.

"You know – where people make cakes and then sell them."

"I know _what_ a bake sale is, Potter. I'm just wondering what on earth possessed you to suggest one."

"Well," Harry said, fumbling his way the end of the thought as he tried to ignore the distinctive raised-eyebrow vibes he was getting from his family, "they encourage creativity. They promote group work and organisational skills. _And_ maths. I always think maths should be encouraged more in wizarding schools. I think it's odd we all graduate able to cast the Patronus charm and cast curses and what not, but completely unable to work out the twelve percent of seventy-three."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There are spells for that."

"There are spells for everything and no one thinks beyond that. Even the most powerful wizard would be completely helpless if someone took his magic away."

_:-__I'm not sure a bake sale is quite the way to go, though, Harry,-: _Lily said in the patient tone one uses with small children who have been discovered eating earth worms and show no signs of knowing why this action is ill-advised.

"It's a bloody awful idea," Draco said rather more bluntly. "Can you imagine the hulking fifteen-and-sixteen year old Slytherin boys prancing round in frilly aprons and baking fairy cakes? You'll have a rebellion on your hands."

"I'd match them galleon for galleon," Harry said. "Two galleons for a galleon if the cake was made using Muggle methods."

Draco hesitated. "What?"

"We'd be raising money, see." Harry smiled as he felt the idea taking hold in his mind. "For something that would benefit the whole school as well as the Slytherins."

Draco looked as though he was fighting with himself. "Does it have to be a _bake_ sale, though? Couldn't it be...I don't know...a potion sale or something?"

"Oh, excellent idea, Malfoy," Sirius said, seizing control of Harry's body. "Let's allow a houseful of Slytherins free reign on the potions supplies and then allow them to sell the results to impressionable young Hufflepuffs. I don't know why we didn't think of it before."

"Oh, sod off, Black. I liked you better when you were an escaped mass-murdering convict. At least then you had character."

"I was never a mass-murderer!" Sirius said angrily. "Trust a Malfoy to take the murder of a dozen Muggles as a sign of character."

"Shut up both of you!" Harry said, grabbing control of his body again. "And next time you take me over to cause a fight, Sirius, I'll carry out my threat to trap you in a never-ending loop of my potions lesson memories with Snape."

Draco slumped back sulkily in his seat. "I just think a Slytherin bake sale is the worst idea anyone's had since the day Voldemort's mother put on her most sexy lingerie and said to Voldemort's father 'Let's get jiggy with it, big boy!'"

"Okay firstly," Harry said, wincing at the mental images of Merope in sexy lingerie, "Can we not dwell on the possibly highly disturbing conception of the man who killed me? And second of all, teaming up with a snake-faced, homicidal psychopath to torture Muggles and take over the wizarding world was also a bad idea, and you still did that."

"I learned from my mistakes."

"Forget it, Draco. My mind is made up. You need to brush off your Victoria sponge recipe and get with the programme."

Draco leaned over and picked a log out of the basket by the hearth. He tossed it gloomily into the fire. "So what are we going to make them spend the money on then, oh great benefactor?"

_:-__Brooms_,-: Remus suggested. :-_The school ones were old and dreadful anyway and half of them got destroyed at the Battle of Hogwarts.-:_

"It's an idea," Harry agreed, after relating Remus's words to Draco. "Everyone loves Quidditch and if anything is going to endear Slytherin House to the rest of the school, it's them buying decent brooms for the sports department."

"But why should they spend all their hard-earned galleons on that?" Draco asked. "Don't look at me like that. You know they're going to ask the same thing. Why can't they spend it on something for the Slytherins?"

Harry frowned. "Because that defeats the whole point of the exercise! And besides, they will only be spending half of it on brooms."

"Yeah? Where's the other half going to go?"

Harry smiled. "To get magical windows put into the Slytherin common room like the ones in the Ministry. It's unfair that the other Houses get bright airy common rooms while the Slytherins are forced to lurk round in the dungeons."

"It's traditional," Draco said, looking appalled. "The common room has looked like that since the Founders' time."

"If the Slytherins weren't such a pasty lot they wouldn't get bullied so much," Harry countered. "Sunlight gives you vitamin D. Vitimin D stops you from getting depressed. New windows should perk everyone up."

"Merlin, Potter, so this is you new improved view of Slytherin House is it? Everyone dressed in frilly aprons baking cupcakes and skipping cheerfully round the corridors going 'tra-la-la'? It would be kinder to _Avada Kedavra_ them all and put them out their misery."

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Hermione was a little more receptive to the idea. Some fast talking and appealing to the side of her personality that thought SPEW had been a good idea and she was well on board.

"You should have a cake competition as well," she said enthusiastically. "One for the best made wizarding cake, and one for the best made Muggle one. The winning cakes could be won in the raffle."

"What raffle?" Draco looked like he was regretting the fact that he had agreed to tag along with the two Gryffindors when they went to the kitchens for a snack. "For Salazar's sake, if you're not careful, all the students are going to spontaneously transfigure into little old ladies who sit around all day having tea parties, gossiping about their grandchildren and discussing the best spells for curing weak bladders."

"Raffles are cool," Harry said defensively.

"As long as you define cool as 'the lack of anything remotely resembling style and class', maybe."

"Why is he here?" Hermione asked Harry reproachfully.

"Because the other option was leaving him alone with all my stuff in my rooms."

"I have to make sure you're not planning on making the poor Slytherin kids dress up in mop caps and perform Morris dancing," Draco added. "I can't believe I started all this. You do realise they'll probably still never go for it?"

"Well, what do you suggest?" Harry snapped.

Draco shrugged. "Make it compulsory."

"We can't do that," Hermione said. "It defeats the whole point."

"Not if you disguise it in attractive packaging."

They stared at him blankly.

"Muggle Studies has become compulsory since the school reopened, right? And I know some of the older students are at a complete loss about what to do for their final projects. Why don't you say that if they do proper research into Muggle cookery and culinary history and then produce a good cake at the end of it, they can hand it in for final assessment."

Harry felt a slow smile spreading across his face. "You know, that might actually work. I'd have to check it was okay with Professor Ogborm, but that would be a really good idea."

Draco shrugged, eyes lidded and self-satisfied. "If at first you don't succeed, try the Slytherin way."

"What way is that?" James muttered with Harry's voice, "cheat, repeat until caught, then lie?"

"Something like that," Draco said, unfazed, and apparently having no problem recognising the change in voice. "You got a problem with that, Old Man Potter?"

"If I was you, Malfoy, I'd never call me that again."

"Or you'll what? Think bad thoughts at me?"

"Shut up, both of you," Harry said, grabbing back control of his body. "And Dad? The same threat applies to you as I gave to Sirius. Can the two of you just give Draco a break?"

"Forget it Potter," Draco said. "I can take care of myself."

_:-Yeah right,-: _James muttered. _:-He doesn't even have a wand. What's he going to do? Irritate his enemies to death?-:_

_:-It'd probably be a fairly effective tactic,-: _Sirius said.

"Anyway," Hermione said, taking a bite from a peppermint cream as she reached down to pull two books and her well-scrawled-in notebook from her bag. "I thought you might want to know that I've found a spell that I think would work to trace the descendants of the Peverell brothers, Harry. I'm afraid it needs some of your blood."

"How much? And why do these things always need my blood?"

"You're the last living descendent that we know of for certain," Hermione said. "And even if we're fairly sure about Alex, I'm hardly going to go up to a first year student and stab him with my fork or something. I'll need about an eggcup full. It acts as ink."

"The more I hear about it, the more fun this spell sounds."

"I know a spell for drawing blood fairly painlessly," Draco put it.

Harry made a face. "Of course you do."

"Do you want to do it now?" Hermione asked.

"No use dragging it out, I suppose." Harry rubbed his hand over his face. The now almost constant headache was returning and every movement his family made in his head sent dull pain skittering from the centre of his forehead to his temples.

They returned to Hermione's rooms to do the spell. She already had an empty ink pot and two large rolls of parchment waiting.

"Now, the spell doesn't seem too difficult," she said, pouring over the page of the ragged tome she was reading. "The only bit I'm really shaky on it the fact that you have to do a 'Turkish Twiddle' with your wand as you say the incantation. I've looked it up and I _think _I've got it, but it's hard to tell when you're just reading about a wand movement rather than actually having it demonstrated for you."

_:-I know how to do it,-: _Lily said unexpectedly. _:-It's a standard movement in many of the more high-brow revelation spells. I used a spell with a Turkish Twiddle in it to find out what sex you would be before you were born, Harry.-:_

Harry related this information to Hermione, who looked terribly relieved. "Would she mind showing me?"

Harry moved aside to let Lily take control of his body. She didn't do it often because she said it was highly disturbing to be wearing a male body with a female mind, so it took a little longer than it did with the Marauders who had become very adept at sneaking control at the slightest opportunity.

"Okay, Hermione," Lily said, and Harry mentally winced at the pitch his voice reached under Lily's control. "Like this."

She moved Harry's hand in a movement so quick and complicated that Harry lost track of it almost right away. Hermione, on the other hand, watched intently, then smiled.

"I almost had it," she said. "Like this?" Her hand moved in a way that was equally bemusing.

"Almost," Lily instructed. "Shift you wrist just a bit to the right at the last twist."

"Oh, I see. Like this?"

"Yes. You have it. Well done, love."

Draco sniggered and Lily shot him a glance. "Something amusing you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco sobered. "No, Mrs. Potter."

_:-Mum, let me have my body back, please,-: _Harry begged. And other kids thought they had it bad with embarrassing mothers.

The spell, as Hermione had predicted, turned out to be fairly simple once the caster had got the hang of the Turkish Twiddle, and the blood-letter got over their squeamishness. Not that Harry was squeamish. It was just that it went against all his natural instincts to sit there calmly while Draco Malfoy, of all people, pointed a borrowed wand at a vital blood vessel and promised that it would Only Hurt For A Bit.

It did hurt. A lot. And for more than a bit.

"I thought you said this was supposed to be painless," Harry said through gritted teeth as the inkpot filled magically with his blood.

Draco shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. "It's a borrowed wand. And I'm a bit rusty. Ergh – I hate blood. Especially Gryffindor blood. I swear it's - you know - redder and bloodier than other blood."

"Can we silence him?" Harry appealed to Hermione.

"I don't know why you haven't done it already," she replied distractedly, straightening the parchment on the table in front of her. "Anyone else would have."

Draco straightened indignantly. "What does it take for people to show me any respect around here? I don't know! I agree to help you out of the goodness of my heart –"

"Because we sprung you from prison and threatened you, actually," Harry reminded him.

"- the _goodness_ of my _heart_," Draco continued loudly, "and what do I get in return? Ridicule and derision, that's what. No one appreciates the hard work I –"

"_Silencio_," Hermione said. "Honestly, Harry. Is he like this all the time?"

"Pretty much," Harry admitted.

"Why do you put up with it?"

"Because..." Harry frowned, searching for a reason. "Well, he's Malfoy, isn't he? It's just how he is. It's sort of comforting in an irritating, obnoxious, Slytheriny sort of way."

She rolled her eyes. "To each their own. Right – shall we start?"

Harry and a fuming-but-blessedly-silent Draco took seats opposite her at the little table, their attention fixed on the parchment in front of her.

"I'm going to try Antioch Peverell's descendent first, since we're fairly sure it's Alex. That way, we can check the spell works. What should appear on the parchment is a family tree for the last five generations of the family leading up to the final descendent. I could get dates and place names as well, but that requires an extra incantation and extra blood, so I thought I'd leave them off for now. Okay?"

"Sounds fine to me. I don't have to do anything, right?"

"Nope. We just needed your blood to make the spell work."

"Story of my life," Harry muttered.

Hermione raised her wand and closed her eyes for a few seconds to prepare herself. Then she began muttering the words to a very complicated sounding chant that sounded more Russian than Latin. The only words Harry recognised were 'Antioch Peverell'. Her wand moved in a clean spiral that linked seamlessly into what Harry now vaguely recognised as the Turkish Twiddle. The end of Hermione's wand began to glow a pale, glimmering blue that resolved into a bead of liquid-looking light. She reached out and dipped the bead of light into the inkpot of Harry's blood, moved it to the parchment and pressed it down in the centre. A thread of blue-veined red stretched from the inkpot to the page and Hermione moved her hand away. Her wand remained, standing perfectly upright in the centre of the page, quivering slightly. From its tip, lines of red spread and branched like veins, gradually resolving themselves into words that were linked with thin lines. No, not just words, names. A family tree.

_Stefano J Goldrod – Hortense A Goldrod (ne Brown) _

_ ._

_ ._

_ ._

_ Edmund J Goldrod – Gretel G Goldrod (ne Griffin)_

_ ._

_ ._

_ ._

_ Wilfred J Goldrod – Augusta K Goldrod (ne Elwood)_

_ ._

_ ._

_ ._

_ Giles J Goldrod – Isabelle F Goldrod (ne Parker)_

_ ._

_ ._

_ ._

_ Alexander J Goldrod_

"Well," Harry said, feeling rolling excitement begin to swell in his stomach. "We know it works. Do the other one now. Cadmus Peverell's descendent. One who isn't Voldemort, if possible."

Hermione nodded and pulled a new piece of parchment towards her, picking her wand off the previous one as she did so. "If we don't recognise the name, we'll have to do some extra spells to find out where the person lives and how old they are and whatnot. But this should do for now. Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Right." Hermione took a deep breath and readied herself. Her wand trembled for a few seconds then grew steady again. She closed her eyes as she had before, then cast the spell again. Once more the bead of sky-blue light formed on the tip of her wand. She dipped it in the blood and moved it to the new parchment. Words began to spread from the tip and form slowly.

_Morphin M Gaunt – Precilla K Goldstein_

"Morphin?" Harry whispered in shock. "As in completely insane, masochistic, I-only-speak-parseltongue-and-enjoy-killing-things-for-fun Morphin? As in Voldemort's _uncle_? Someone agreed to shag him?"

Hermione's lips were thin as the next names began to form. "Perhaps she didn't agree to it."

The implications of that were sickening.

The line that threaded down from Morphin and Precilla now pointed to a new name:

_Benoni Macresco_

"Macresco!" Harry said. "Daniel Macresco! But McGonagall said his mother was a Muggle and his father was the son of a Muggleborn wizard."

"Well, clearly she was wrong."

A name was forming next to Benoni Macresco's, linking them together.

_Benoni Macresco – Odette G Macresco (ne Rutherford)_

"So he married," Hermione said. "And clearly Morphin and Precilla didn't. I wonder why their son had a different surname as well."

Draco suddenly began poking Harry hard in the arm.

"Stop it a moment, Malfoy."

The poking increased in viciousness.

"What?"

Draco pointed to his silenced mouth.

"In a minute. Look another name is coming."

Draco scowled and folded his arms sulkily.

_Andrew H Macresco_

"So he would be the grandson of Morphin Gaunt," Hermione said musingly, "and he married..."

_Andrew H Macresco – Hannah D Watts_

"A very Muggle-sounding name," Harry commented. "Which means that their son could be...yes. There it is."

_Daniel H Macresco_

The words stopped forming, and Harry sat back in his chair, feeling dizzy at the revelation. Daniel was odd, yes, but he had never seemed evil. Now Harry knew he was related to Morphin Gaunt, Salazar Slytherin, _Voldemort_. How could that be possible?

"McGonagall said his father was in a psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's," Harry said, wishing his voice didn't sound quite so threadbare. "Obviously the genetic insanity hasn't quite filtered out through the generations yet."

"Daniel's not evil," Hermione said firmly. "Strange, powerful, a little bit unbalanced, maybe, but not evil."

Harry nodded. He suddenly remembered the unusual shyness in the boy's eyes when he and Alex had given him chocolate snitches for Christmas. The day he had spoken about them all being flames...oh! And that suddenly made more sense as well.

"He knew," Harry said, feeling breathless as he realised. "A few months ago he and Alex were visiting and he suddenly started saying all this stuff about how the three of us were flames from the same fire."

"And there was all that stuff in _Sacrum Obitus_ about how the three last descendents of the Peverells would be drawn together at the right time," Hermione said. "You never could properly explain why you felt so protective of those boys. You've been like a big brother to them."

"I just don't understand," Harry said. "Why did McGonagall say his grandfather was Muggleborn when clearly he was the son of a witch and a wizard – both pureblood, in fact. Anthony Goldstein was in Hufflepuff in our year, remember? I'm guessing Precilla was a relation."

Draco started poking him again.

"For heaven's sake! Fine – _finite incantantem. _Happy now?"

"You two are both idiots," Draco said, as soon as he had his voice back. "Don't you know anything about Latin?"

They looked at him blankly.

"We were both raised as Muggles," Harry reminded him. "They don't really teach Latin much to Muggles anymore."

Draco rolled his eyes. "And once again there is evidence that their barbarity knows no bounds. The word 'macresco' in Latin means 'thin, skinny or –'"

"Gaunt," Hermione finished. "My God, the answer was there all the time. Why didn't you say something before, Malfoy?"

"I didn't know what the kid's surname was."

"But why did Morphin and Precilla call their kid 'Macresco' instead of 'Gaunt'?"

"Because the Gaunts have such a bad reputation and they wanted to give him a good start in life?" Harry suggested, though the idea of Morphin as a caring father boggled his mind.

"Because," Draco said, in the tones of one applying infinite amounts of patience in the face of deliberate stupidity, "as Granger said before, this Goldstein girl didn't have a choice. You said this Morphin character enjoyed causing pain and killing things. Perhaps he raped her. She gave birth to the child, but didn't want him to grow up with the name of his father."

"But why not give him her name them?" Harry asked.

"Because," Draco said, screwing up his face in thought, "she didn't raise him."

"What?"

"The shame of having a child born out of wedlock in a pureblood family – particularly at that time..." he glanced at Harry. "What was it? Nineteen thirties or forties?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well, the shame of that would have been too great. I'm guessing she - or her family, possibly - got rid of the baby. Put it up for adoption. Probably in a Muggle orphanage."

"How do you figure that one?" Harry asked. He would never admit it, but he couldn't help being awed at the way Draco's quick mind was picking through the facts and making sense of them.

"Because your boy's grandfather was 'Muggleborn'. I'm guessing he was adopted by Muggles. All he had of his real birth parents was his name. And since the Goldstein girl went to so much trouble coming up with his surname, I'll bet the name 'Benoni' means something significant as well."

"I could try a translation spell on it," Hermione volunteered, also looking a bit dazed by this rapid unravelling of facts. She grabbed a quill off the sideboard and obviously without thinking, dipped it into Harry's blood.

"You know," Harry said, wincing, "I would be grateful if you didn't use my blood for ink on a regular basis, Hermione."

She glanced down and the quill and flushed. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking." She pulled out a scrap of parchment and scribbled the name on to it. Then she cast the translation spell they had used on Ignotus Peverell's opening message in _Sacrum Obitus._ The word on the page squirmed and reformed to read:

_Son of my Pain/Sorrow_

"It's Hebrew," Hermione added, after another small twist of her wand.

"It's depressing," Draco said. "Don't you people ever get involved in adventures that don't involve pain, suffering and bloodshed?"

"It's a breakthrough," said Harry. "All of this. We're another step closer to the finish line."


	19. Death and Fairy Cakes

**Warning: Fairly disturbing scene in the final part of this chapter. You have been warned!**

**NB: Belated happy Thanksgiving for those US citizens among us. For most of us British ones – rock on Christmas! For anyone else? Happy holidays! I wish you many prezzies. **

**M x**

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**Death and Fairy Cakes**

Harry looked down at what he had written and sighed.

_**To Do List:**_

_Finish marking sixth year assignments_

_Convince Slytherins that bake sale idea is sufficiently hard core and villain-esque for them to go through with it_

_Buy proper coffee for D before he irritates me into committing Malfoycide _

_Avoid anyone trying to send me off to war against Crouch and his cronies_

_Talk to H about idea for breaking N.M. out of prison_

_Persuade SS to help on the potion-brewing front_

_Figure out if F is a figment of G's imagination and, if he's not, whether I can get him a body back as well_

_Plan lessons for next week_

_Become Master of Death _

_Learn how to bake fairy cakes_

Harry groaned and dropped his head down into the table in front of him. His headaches were almost constant now, and he was becoming increasingly worried about the... new development as well, which he had had been reluctant to bother his friends with in spite of his family's urgings. There was really nothing they could do to help and they were already working as quickly as they could.

"All right, mate?"

Harry looked up to see Ron, Hermione, and Draco's bodiless head in the doorway to his living room.

"Yeah." He forced himself to straighten up and smile at the three of them, though the vaguely worried expressions he was treated to indicated it probably came out as more of a pained grimace. He blinked at Draco. "You're hanging out with Ron and Hermione now?"

"Oh, please." Draco pulled the Invisibility Cloak off fully and tossed it over the back of the sofa. "Your minions kidnapped me and dragged me back here against my will. If I had a wand they'd both be strung up from the Slytherin flagpole sporting green hair and silver spots."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron and Hermione.

"Don't look at us like that, Harry," Hermione said, sending a scathing look at Draco. "He was helping Peeves set a booby trap outside the staff room to be triggered on Monday morning."

"Draco..." Harry grimaced. "Can't you at least _try_ to make my life a bit easier? And what on earth possessed you to tell _Peeves_ that you're here?"

"I'm _bored_." Draco flung himself down on the sofa and scowled. "And Peeves thought I was the Bloody Baron. He's surprisingly easy to control with the threat of an eternity of torture handing over his head."

Pursing his lips, Harry looked down at his list again. He couldn't really blame the other young man. It had to be boring wondering round Hogwarts all day with no one to talk to and only your ex-school-rival and his 'minions' to keep you company in the evenings. "Well, let's give you something to do, then," he said, his eyes skimming the list.

The other three wandered over to peer over his shoulder.

"I hope these aren't in priority order." Hermione's voice was laced with amusement.

"Shut up," Harry said, without much vigour.

"She has a point," Draco said. "Who else in the world would list 'learn to make fairy cakes' after 'become Master of Death'?"

"Voldemort?" Harry suggested

"Was he a fan of fairy cakes?"

"You tell me. Didn't he live at your house for a fair part of the war?"

"I can't say I ever saw him prancing round baking fairy cakes in-between torturing Muggles."

"He probably did it in secret," Harry said, "so as not to ruin his badass image." A wave of dizziness washed over him and he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

_:-Harry?-: _In his head, his family gave him a series of vicious mental pokes. _:-HARRY?-:_

The dizziness faded and his vision cleared to reveal three worried faces looking at him.

_:-You have to tell them, love,-: _Lily said for the hundredth time. _:-They'll find out eventually, and what if they need to cover for you?-:_

_:-I'm not telling them!-: _he snapped. _:-There's nothing they can do and it'll just worry them. Besides, it's stupid and embarrassing.-:_

A hand landed on his shoulder, followed by a close-up of Hermione's face. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Fine." He scrubbed his face with his hand. "Just having a bit of a family discussion. Nothing to worry about."

She looked at him sceptically, but let it go. "So anything on this list you want us to do? I'm guessing I'm 'H'?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about breaking Draco's Mum out of jail. I remember when you were researching that spell to turn him into his Animagus form you said there weren't really any spells that easily turned people into an animal of your choice. You said you could only do that with a really complicated potion."

"That's right."

"Well, I can't think of any way to break her out other than turning her into a ferret like we did with Draco, which obviously won't work with her animagus form being a narwhale, so I was wondering if you could dig out the recipe for that potion. It would give Draco something to do and I promised him we'd help break her out."

"Brilliant," Draco said, face lighting up. "What will I need to do?"

Harry shrugged. "I can provide money for ingredients. Other than that I'm not particularly good at potions, so you'll have to guide me. The Marauders told me about a secret room down in the dungeons where we could do a bit of potions brewing. If it worked out well we can use it to brew some of the base potions for my Master-of-Death ceremony. And we'll need to get a picture down there."

"A picture? Why?"

"For Snape to lurk in. You said we needed a Potions Master to help with it and Hermione's nearly finished translating the book. We'll soon be ready to start brewing."

"You'll need to talk to him, Harry," Hermione said. "Try and convince him to help us. Your mother is the key there, I think. And I really am nearly finished. I've only really got one bit I'm still struggling with. It's to do with where the ceremony needs to take place."

Harry stared at her in consternation, his headache thumping rhythmically against his forehead. "Take place? I thought we could do it here. We need Alex and Daniel. I can't take them out of Hogwarts!"

"You may have to. Though the clue is so cryptic I really have no idea."

"Let's hear 'em then," Draco said, without moving from his sprawl on the sofa. "Maybe it just calls for a touch of Slytherin delicacy."

"Delicacy, my arse," Ron scoffed. "A touch of Slytherin evilness maybe."

"It _says_," Hermione said loudly, to interrupt the burgeoning argument, "from what I've managed to figure out through a number of very obscure rhymes and folk songs, that the ceremony needs to take place where 'the little dog laughed to see the reunion of all Death's gifts'. It then says that we shall be guided to the place of enchantment by its latter name."

"And the dish ran away with the spoon," Harry said, managing a tired smile through his headache. "'Hey Diddle Diddle' is not exactly obscure, Hermione."

"That wasn't the obscure bit," she said darkly. "I was talking about the bit about Death's gifts which involved an incredibly twee little folk song called ''Tis a Gift to be Simple' and some bizarre accompanying clues that initially had me thinking the ceremony was going to involve some kind of necrophilia."

Harry shuddered. _:-No offense,-: _he told his family, _:-But even I have to draw the line somewhere.-:_

_:-Completely understandable,-: _Lily said. _:-I have no desire to see my son have sex. Particularly with a dead body. Aside from anything else it would be incredibly unhygienic."_

"I take it you're sure you're wrong," Harry checked, eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

"Oh, yes. Believe me, I made sure of it."

"So...the little dog laughed –"

_:-Barked,-:_ Sirius and Remus interrupted together.

Harry frowned. "What?"

_:-Dogs sort of bark when they laugh,-: _Sirius replied. _:-If they find something really funny.-:_

_:-Though they can't claim to have a particularly sophisticated sense of humour,-: _Remus said dryly. _:-For evidence see exhibit one.-: _He gave a dramatic mental flourish in Sirius's direction that made Harry feel slightly seasick.

_:-Moony!-:_

"Barked, then," Harry said, talking over their bickering. At the confused looks he was treated to by the other three he elaborated. "The little dog barked to see the all the Hallows together."

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, before her face lit up and she began rummaging around in her handbag. "Aha!" She pulled out an improbably large laptop considering the size of the bag and set it down on top of Harry's sixth years' assignments. Harry hurriedly stood up and moved to the armchair to give her room. She sat down, opened the laptop, and started typing.

"Hermione..."

"Shh!" Her fingers were a blur on the keyboard

Harry groaned. "How does she even get internet here?"

"It's Hermione," Ron said, as if that explained everything. Harry, who had known Hermione since they were both eleven, nodded understandingly.

"Dog barking..." Hermione muttered. "All the Hallows...all hallows...together...barking..."

"Can someone turn her brain off?" Draco said from his sprawled position on the sofa. "I swear I can smell burning."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron snapped, eyes fixed on his girlfriend.

"I'd like to see you try and make me, Weasley."

"Ah-_HAH_!" Hermione said, making them all jump. "I knew I was missing something. Dogs _barking, _you see!" Her slightly manic smile was a little too close to Bellatrix's for Harry's peace of mind. He wondered when she'd last slept.

"Well?" Draco said impatiently. "Where is it that Potter has to start his career in shagging corpses?"

"I'm not shagging – "

Ron flicked his wand and Draco gave a horrified hiccough which resulted in a slug.

"I knew I would perfect that hex someday," Ron said with great satisfaction.

Harry sighed and transfigured an empty ink pot into a bucket, greatly relieved that the stream of slugs muffled the worst of Draco's curses. He handed it to the ex-Slytherin, who scowled for a few seconds before grabbing it and retching violently.

_:-We should've tried that one at school,-: _Sirius said dreamily. _:-Can you imagine old Snivellus with slugs streaming from his gigantic nostrils?-:_

_:-I'd really rather not,-: _James said.

"It's a church in London," said Hermione, her eyes still scanning the laptop screen. She had apparently missed the entire interlude. "Originally established in the year 675. It used to be called 'All Hallows Barking'. Now it's called –"

"All Hallows-by-the-Tower." The attention of everyone in the room turned to Draco who blinked at them over his bucket and burped up a small slug. "What?"

"How on earth do you know that?"

"Everyone knows about it." Draco looked peered at their uncomprehending expressions through watery eyes. "Don't they?"

"It's a Muggle church!" Hermione said.

"It's a place of collective - _hic! -_ effervescence," Draco said, before pausing to cough up a stream of small orange slugs into the bucket. "I'll make you pay for this, Weasel," he added, although his voice didn't hold a great deal of conviction seeing as he was a wandless wizard being sheltered by his ex-rivals and currently handicapped by a stream of slugs materialising in his windpipe.

"What's collective effi-whatsithingy?" Harry asked.

"Effervescence," Hermione took over, in her best lecturing voice. "When Muggles use the term, it usually refers to that kind of …_energy_ you get forming when lots of people gather together while feeling high emotions – like at a carnival or a rave or a riot or something. When wizards talk about it they usually refer to a place where a high level of magical energy has been accumulated at some point in history that changed the place to some extent – makes it sort of sacred. A place of great mystical importance. Stone Henge is one such place. Glastenbury Tor is another." She looked at Draco. "I had no idea Hallows-by-the-Tower was one."

"It's one of the most well-known. We learnt about it in History of Magic in second year. Honestly, Granger, I thought you were one of the only people – _hic!_ – who managed to stay awake during Binn's classes."

"Second year?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione was petrified by a basilisk for a large portion of second year."

_:-A basilisk!-: _Lily said, as she rounded on the Marauders. _:-Fine guardians you were. Our son was facing basilisks on his own at the tender age of twelve!-:_

_:-Don't look at me,-: _James said quickly. _:-I was dead like you.-:_

_:-I was in Azkaban,-: _Sirius added sounding, for the first time in living memory relieved to have lived those twelve hellish years in order to provide himself with an excuse for slacking off on godfatherly duties when faced with an angry Lily Potter.

Remus shank back as all attention turned to him. _:-At that time I believe I was living in a Muggle's garden shed trying not to a) starve or b) eat people while I looked for someone who would be willing to employ a beat up old werewolf who hadn't had a new robe for three years and smelled like he hadn't had a bath for ten.-: _He'd clearly been trying to make it sound humorous, but failed dismally.

"Obviously no one had any decent notes I could borrow to catch up with," Hermionne added, giving both Ron and Harry a dark look. Harry was secretly relieved that he hadn't had to comment on that small revelation into Remus's life before his appointment at Hogwarts.

"Well, we had other things to think about at the time," Ron protested.

"Regardless," Draco said (and Harry had to admit to a small amount of respect. There were few people who would still bother to use words like 'regardless' when they had a large, leopard-print slug dribbling down their chin), "Hallows by the Tower is one such place. The power there is so strong that even Muggles sense it. They perceived it – as many witches and wizards did – as divine, and that's why they have always built places of worship on it. The original church was built over an even more original Roman temple, which was probably built over another place of worship before it. Wizards placed a spell over it like the one at Diagon Alley which hides the wizarding part from the Muggle part."

"If this is where the Deathly Hallows ceremony is meant to take place, the great magical power people feel there must have come from Death himself," Hermione said, with what seemed to be a sort of dizzy wonder. "I wonder if it'll go away once we complete the ceremony?"

"Do we care?" Ron asked.

"You're a – _hic_ – uncultured barbarian, Weasley."

"Yeah? I'm not the one who just blew a green slug out of his left nostril."

"Moving on," Hermione said meaningfully, "I'm guessing that 'you shall be guided to the place of enchantment by its latter name' is referring to the phrase 'by the tower'. The church has a big tower with a spire. I'm guessing that's where we do the ceremony."

"That makes sense," Draco agreed. "If I remember, the core of the magical field collects somewhere near the – _hic!_ – tower."

Harry wished he could match the triumphant expressions beginning to form on the others' faces, but his head was beginning to spin again and his stomach was rolling. He felt himself slump forward in his chair.

"Harry!"

Harry blinked blearily as Hermione almost knocked her laptop off the desk in her hurry to fall to her knees at his side.

"M'okay," he managed. "Just exhausted. Think I'll have a bath and turn in early." It was amazing how much concentration it took for him to string those few words together.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione's arms were smothering and felt hot and raw on his skin. He tried not to flinch.

"Look, you two – _hic!_ – bugger off, why don't you," Draco's voice said from somewhere to his left. "We clearly can't do much more today. I'll make sure the Great Gormless Golden Boy doesn't drown himself."

"Like we can trust anything you say, Malfoy," Ron protested.

"It's in my best interests to keep him alive until he helps get my mother out of prison," Draco pointed out. "Now sod off."

Harry wasn't sure what happened over the next little while. Things were a coloured blur that refused to resolve themselves into anything that made sense. The next thing he knew, he was being hauled up none-too-gently by his arms and dragged in the direction of the bathroom. It was hot and sharply scented inside. The smell was vaguely familiar.

"I've run you your bath," Draco said shortly. "The rest is up to you, golden boy. Scream like a girl if you feel like you're going to die or anything. If I'm not busy, I'll get one of you minions to rescue you or something." He strode out, shutting the door with a click.

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Lily blinked and glanced around. She was in Hogwarts. She would know this kind of architecture anywhere. She shook her head. Of course she was in Hogwarts. She went to school here, didn't she? Except she had never been in this particular bath before. And she'd left school, hadn't she? Yes! There was James and the wedding and the war…

Perhaps she was here to help Dumbledore in the war effort? Yes. That had to be it. She was clearly suffering from some sort of stress-related episode because the herbs that scented her bath were ones she always used to relieve tense muscles and calm her mind, and the blurriness of her vision wasn't all to do with the steam filling the room.

She stared up at the fuzzy ceiling idly. Was this what James felt like when he took his glasses off? She was sure she should be more worried. She couldn't see and she was _sure_ she was forgetting something important, but she just couldn't be bothered to care right now.

It was only when the water began getting tepid that she could bring herself to move. She still felt vaguely as if she were in a dream as she reached for the soap…

…and stopped, staring at her hand in burgeoning horror. Because it wasn't her hand. It was a large hand – a man's hand, attached to a man's arm and inscribed every-so-faintly with the words 'I must not tell lies'.

What the hell was going on here? Had she been hexed in some way? Oh, God! She had a man's legs as well!

Her mind was rushing and pulsing, filled with horror and an instinctive, petrified terror of the body she suddenly found herself in. Oh _God! _She had a bloody _penis_!

_Calm down, Lily_, she told herself firmly. _This is clearly some kind of spell. If you think clearly, you'll be able to figure out how to counter it. _Her breaths were loud and panicky. They were also two octaves lower than usual. _Transfiguration. Right. From man into woman. Can't really be done with a quick charm. Must be a powerful hex or potion. Wait! I remember reading something in that book on Dark magic I was researching for Dumbledore. How did it go? How did it go? Something…something…if you find thyself transfigured into thee opposite sex by Dark magic, relieve thyself of thee appendage that most offends thee…Godric help me. I'm going to have to cut off my penis. Oh God, I _have_ a penis!_

Her breaths were so fast now they were leaving her dizzy. Some part of her was screaming at her to stop and consider this with a clearer mind, but the larger part of her was so desperate to break this horrendous spell before her mind broke down completely.

She clambered clumsy and trembling out of the bath with unfamiliar limbs. The world swam briefly – a whirl of fear, uncertainty and lingering sense of impending doom – then righted itself. Her eyes focused on a sharp, wizard-style razor on the shelf above the basin. Perfect.

_Stop! Stop!_

Her large, horribly male fingers closed around the handle.

_I have to do this. I can't be like this forever! What would James think? How could he love me like this?_

It took a lot more willpower for her to close the fingers of her other hand around that horribly real and terrifying organ between her legs.

_This is going to hurt so much. Come on, Lily. For James. Just think. If you were a man in this position, you'd have to be cutting off both your breasts. I can do this in one cut. Just lift the knife…_

_Don't do it! _

_Do it! _

_Don't do it!_

Her hand shook violently as she raised the blade.

"Merlin's balls! _Accio! Accio!_"

Lily jumped violently as the razor jumped in her hand and clattered to the floor at her feet. She swung around to squint with her blurry vision at the familiar figure of a blonde young man poised in the doorway with his empty wand hand stretched in her direction.

"What in the name of all that is magic do you think you're _doing_, Potter? Have you gone completely _insane?_"

Lily's brain stuttered and swirled as she tried to make sense of what was going on. "Malfoy? L-Lucius?" Her knees gave out and she slid to the floor.

"Luci…_what?_ Potter – were you just about to cut your _cock_ off?"

The shaking was beginning to get so bad it was rattling her teeth in her jaw. "M-M-Malfoy? You come to k-kill me? Did V-Voldemort send you? J-James will _k-k-kill_ you if you do. _I'll _kill you before you try. I swear. I'll cut _y-your_ cock off and make you e-eat it."

"James?" The young man stepped forward and dropped to his knees beside her. This close, he was no longer blurry, and she could suddenly see that it wasn't Lucius. Just someone who looked remarkably like him. "Great Merlin – _Lily? _Lily Potter?"

"Who… are… you?" Lily could barely breathe. It felt like the air was whistling into her lungs through a pin-prick sized hole. She wouldn't go down without a fight, though. That she could be sure of. She blindly grabbed the razor by her right knee and pressed it to his throat before he could react. The Malfoy-like man froze and slowly raised his hands in submission.

"You have to listen to me, Lily. This isn't what you think it is. You haven't been hexed, I swear. My name is Draco Malfoy. I'm Lucius's son. Voldemort is dead. You are currently living in your son's body. I know this will come as a shock, but if you cut off anything down there…" he flushed and nodded quickly to the area between her legs, "…you'll be depriving yourself of any grandchildren."

Lily trembled uncertainly. It all sounded particularly bizarre, but something…_something_…was telling her that he was telling her the truth. The feeling that she was forgetting something was becoming more and more pronounced. "My son…"

"Yes. Harry Potter."

"Harry…" It was like being slapped in the face with a wet tea towel. A vision of a red-eyed Voldemort, a green-eyed Harry. A prophecy that must never come true, but did come true. A betrayal. A flash of green light. Then…

Harry shuddered and blinked, found himself on the bathroom floor with a sharp knife-like razor pressed to Draco's throat and only blurry second-hand memories to let him know what happened.

"Oh…oh…" The razor clattered to the floor from numb fingers. "Draco…I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Potter? Harry? Please tell me that's you."

"Yes. Yes, it's me. I'm so, so sorry."

"For Salazar's sake, just...shut up with the 'sorrys'. It was you who nearly got castrated. Your mother is one bloody terrifying witch, I can tell you that. No wonder the Dark Lord could barely bring himself to kill her. I'm not surprised it ended up biting him in the arse. Did you know she threatened to make me eat my own cock?"

Harry mouthed the word 'sorry' again, but he'd been overtaken with a violent, full-body trembling that made proper speech completely impossible.

Draco pressed his lips together, then reached for Harry's bath towel. He wrapped it firmly round Harry, eyes averted. "Please tell me this is the first time that's happened." He seemed almost unaware that his hands were briskly rubbing Harry's upper arms, seeking to spread warmth by encouraging blood flow.

Harry's silence was obviously confirmation enough.

_:-I'm so sorry!-: _Lily wailed in his head, devastated. _:-I can't believe I almost castrated my own son!-:_

_:-It's not your fault. We've all been there now, Lily,-: _Remus told her gently.

_:-Well,-: _Sirius said, _:-Not the castrating thing. That was pure Evans.-:_

"Why didn't you _tell_ anyone?" Draco demanded.

"It never lasted that long before," Harry whispered. "The other times it only lasted a few seconds. I didn't tell anyone because it would just worry you all and there's absolutely nothing we can do about it until we can do the ceremony."

Draco groaned and dropped his head into one hand. "New rule, Potter. You tell us _anything_ weird that happens. Got that? And we have to speed this damn ceremony along as well. Come on. We've got to get you decent. We're going to have to tell your minions about this, I suppose."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Shut up. You don't get any say in this anymore. You threatened to make me eat my own cock!"

"That was…"

"I don't care who it was! The point still stands."

"In that case, I also threatened to cut your throat." He and Draco staggered into the living room and turned towards the bedroom.

"My cock, Potter, my cock!"

"Oh, dear Mordred," a familiar, oily voice said from one of the paintings on Harry's. "Please tell me I did _not _ just hear that."

Brim-full with horror, Harry and Draco slowly turned towards the bat-like figure sitting on the rustic wall of a pretty watercolour Devonshire cottage.

"Well, well, well," Snape said, as his eyes raked over the two of them. "I see you managed to squirm your way out of prison after all, Draco. And shacking up with Potter as well? I thought you had better taste than that."

"Why are you here?"

"I heard you were in need of a Potions Master."


	20. The Gaunt Solution

**Greetings to my poor, patient readers. Finally – a new chapter! I know not a great deal of action occurs in this chapter, but some important things needed to happen. More excitement to follow soon, I promise!**

**Moonsign X**

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**The Gaunt Solution**

Harry stood beside Draco in the middle of his living room, dressed only in a towel, and resisted the urge to cower. Just. Snape, once again, perched black and bat-like on the low wall surrounding the pleasant watercolour cottage that hung above Harry's fireplace. The expression on his face indicated that he expected to be infected by terminal kittens and cream teas at any moment and was ready to retaliate.

"Your taste in artwork is as abysmal as your taste in godparents, Potter," he said disdainfully. "Now kindly explain yourself before I report both of you to the Headmistress."

If Harry had thought it was hard trying to convince Ron, Hermione and Andromeda that he wasn't insane (and was, in fact, the soon-to-be Master of Death), it was nothing compared to the grilling he was subjected to by the portrait of one Severus Snape. The man was a Slytherin to his core and had been a spy and double agent for most of his life. He was the sort of person who wouldn't even trust his own reflection without photo identification, wand scan, and full background check.

The only good thing coming out of the experience was the unexpected insight Harry was getting into his mother's childhood. Snape clearly knew that the best way to confirm the truth of Harry's words was to dig for details of his life with Lily before Hogwarts that would have gone to grave along with Harry's mother when she died.

"What was her favourite Muggle sweet as a child?" he snapped. And, "How often did I transfigure her repulsive sister's doll into a badger?" Between them, Snape and Lily were revealing the secret story of an unlikely friendship between an angry, lonely little boy and a pretty, middle-class little girl who couldn't quite fit into her ordinary Muggle family.

They heard about little things – the colour of the hair ribbon Snape illegally _Accio_-ed for Lily when it fell into the park's stream. The brand of toffees the two of them nicked from old Mrs. Weatherbin's handbag after she called Snape a grimy little gutter rat. The scent of the shampoo they used to wash the Evans' cat after an unfortunate potions experiment when they were eight. Harry passed Lily's words on in a hushed voice, captivated and incredibly grateful that the other Marauders had been banned from saying _anything_ to put Operation Persuade Snape To Help in jeopardy – although Lily's and Remus's mental gagging techniques were being sorely tested at times in spite of this.

When it finally seemed that Snape was running out of questions, Lily sighed in Harry's mind and said, _:-Let me take over, Harry.-:_

Snape was still hunched forward, scowling suspiciously at Harry as he stepped aside to let Lily take over. His body gave the now-familiar shudder (causing the already precariously balanced towel to slip down a little further) and Harry's consciousness was suddenly squashed up in the back of his own head with the other Marauders.

"It's me, Severus," Lily said, stepping up closely to the painting and looking warmly into Snape's eyes.

Harry, frankly, thought that that was the least persuasive argument since Draco claimed that the last chocolate frog should be his because his hair rocked and Harry was a Gryffindor arse. Snape, however, stared into Harry's eyes for a few long, disconcerting seconds before sitting back on the wall looking shell-shocked.

"How did this happen?" he whispered.

"You mean I have to go through it all again?" Harry whined, taking over again. "Wasn't a million times enough?"

"Welcome to five years of teaching Longbottom Potions, Potter. And hyperbole does not suit you. If used, it should be applied with razor wit, which you are sorely lacking."

Harry stared at him blankly. "You what? Seriously, it's like Potions all over again." He glanced at Draco. "What's he saying? Is he talking about some kind of hair product?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're a barbarian, Potter. You have no business passing on your world-class ignorance to impressionable young minds. Do you not even have a speck of class?"

"I don't see that you really have a right to talk, Mr Malfoy," Snape said snidely, "seeing as you appear to have entered into an ill-advised and repellently saccharine relationship with the Boy Wonder."

The expression on Draco's face made Harry's own instinctive horror almost worthwhile.

"Relationship?" Draco said, shrilly. "_Relationship?_ He abducted and corrupted yet another one of my house elves, transfigured me into a ferret, kidnapped me from prison, forced me to abandon my mother with false promises, gave me a room in a house that is an alarming mixture of Gryffindor cuddliness and insane, homicidal Black ingenuity and then made me to help him by threatening to turn all of Britain into a race of the living dead."

"I did no such thing!" Harry protested, feeling rather hard done by. "Well," he amended, "not the bit about the living dead, anyway. Or the bit about false promises."

"And," said Draco, who was clearly on a role, "as if that wasn't bad enough, tonight he threatened to cut off my own cock and make me eat it!"

"That wasn't me!"

"I really have no desire to hear the details of your sordid sexual activities with the Gryffindor Golden Boy," Snape said.

_:-Great Godric!-: _James wailed, breaking free from Lily's control for a brief moment. _:-How the hell are we meant to survive the company of _two_ bloody Slytherins for so long without being without being allowed to torment them at all? If this is the promised afterlife, I want my money back.-:_

Harry groaned. "Can everyone just focus, please? Are you going to help us or not, Snape?"

Snape drew himself up with an expression of hawk-like displeasure on his face that thinly veiled the anticipatory gleam in his painted eyes. Not for the first time, Harry wondered just how boring it must be to be a sentient portrait. "Very well. But keep in mind that the only reason I'm doing this is to help Lily and prevent you from bringing the Zombie Apocalypse down upon all of Britain."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Harry demanded, bristling. "I never had any plan to turn anyone into a zombie or an inferi or any other kind of lurching dead thingy."

"I did teach you for five years, Potter. You could not even gain a firm grasp on a basic colour-changing potion. Trust me – if you were doing this on your own, there would be a zombie apocalypse. I didn't go to all the effort of dying to save this wretched world only to have you turn it into a playground for 'lurching dead thingies'." This last was said with the kind of exquisitely crafted sarcasm that can only be achieved through years of practise on small, defenceless children.

_:-Don't complain, Harry, he said he'd do it,-: _Remus said.

_:-Can we make him leave now?-: _Sirius begged. _:-I'm really having to resist the urge to nick a can of spray paint and practise drawing wedgies. I fear that would be seriously detrimental to our plans.-:_

_:-Oh, Padfoot…-: _James's voice was reverential._ :-Painting Snape a permanent wedgie…how badly do we really need bodies anyway?-:_

_:-Leaking dip-pots and insanity,-: Remus reminded him._

_:-Painted wedgie, Moony. Forever! Ow – Lily!-:_

Lily's mental cuff reverberated through Harry's head leaving him with the impression that the Hogwarts Express had made a detour through his brain.

"So does this mean you'll do it?" He appealed to Snape, not sure how much more he could take.

Snape's oil-paint eyes glittered dangerously. "For now, Potter. Now kindly explain to me why I have heard a rumour that some imbecile is planning a _bake sale_ for Slytherin House."

Harry gulped.

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Three days later the students of Slytherin House reacted to the 'Bake Sale Plan' just as well as all Harry's family, friends, and…well, whatever Draco was…had predicted. In other words, there were only four reasons why there had not been an angry adolescent rebellion that left Harry as a sad reddish streak on the flagstones of the Slytherin common room:

Slytherins, bizarrely, had an innate respect of people they saw as members of authority (hence, Harry supposed, the number of Death Eaters that emerged from the House).

No matter how much they jeered, Slytherins also had a healthy sense of self preservation and none of them could quite forget that their new Head of House had duelled the most feared Dark Lord of the century at the tender age of seventeen and proceeded to defeat him with a simple disarming spell.

Harry had made sure he had Severus Snape's scowling visage firmly ensconced in the portrait over his right shoulder as he broke the news.

The upper year Slytherins had been horrified by the prospect of coming up with original ideas for their Muggle Studies O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. projects. Since Hogwarts had reopened and made the subject compulsory, purebloods who had lived in happy obliviousness of the Muggle world for centuries were being faced with it full on for the first time. Baking a few cakes with a spoon instead of a wand seemed a small concession to pay for getting out of the trauma of actually having to _learn_ anything significant about the Muggle world.

By the time Harry finally left behind a common room full of mollified (if not exactly pleased) Slytherins, he was utterly exhausted. He staggered into his quarters and collapsed on the couch, hands cradling his almost-constantly throbbing and aching head. The inside of his skull was beginning to feel raw; as though his brain had been replaced with weak acid that was slowly eating away at the fragile flesh inside his head. Luckily, he hadn't hallucinated that he was one of his family members for almost fifteen hours, which indicated that the sedative potion Snape had suggested might actually be working – even if it did make him almost too tired to function and turned his urine a rather alarming shade of turquoise.

_:-I feel prop'rly stoned,-: _Sirius slurred from the back of Harry's mind. _:-S'like the seventies all over 'gain-:_

_:-Go' bless the seventies,-: _James agreed.

Remus made a pained, canine noise and huddled up against Sirius.

_:-You did drugs?-: _Harry asked, with the instinctive betrayal of a child hearing that his parents used to be like normal people.

_:-It was th'seventies, mate,-:_ said Sirius. _:-Everyone did drugs.-:_

_:-I didn't,-: _Lily said quickly, before her incessantly honest streak forced her to add, _:-Often.-:_

_:-If it's any conna…consi…consolation, it was mostly after we lef' school,-: _James said.

_:-Remember that one wizard drug tha' used t'make you fart rainbows,-: _Sirius's tone was fondly reminiscent. _:-If you practised you cou' make…you know…shapes. Wormtail could fart out a whole bloody rainbow unicorn on a goo' day.-: _

It was the first time that Harry had ever heard him talk about Peter Pettigrew with anything other than utter loathing. It suddenly struck Harry that at one time, Wormtail had to have been a pretty decent guy. The Marauders wouldn't have put up with him otherwise. And if it hadn't been for Voldemort using his fear to twist him beyond all recognition he might still have been one of them. It was a struggle to fit that thought into his head, but the sedative potion helped a lot.

_:-Evil li'le rat,-: _James said in answer to Sirius, although again (probably thanks to both the potion and Harry's physical exhaustion), his voice lacked its usual fire.

Remus gave a mental growl of agreement and Sirius curled around him protectively. _:-I think we should cut th'dose nex' time,-: _he said. _:-It's pulling the wolf too close to th' surface of Moony's mind.-:_

_:-Mmmm'fine,-: _Remus mumbled.

_:-Yeah, try tha' again with a bit less growl in your voice, babe.-:_

_:-Babe?-: _Harry said. _:-Seriously?-:_

_:-Shuddup. There was a reason. A long time ago._-:

Harry decided that he did not need to know. Ever.

"Harry? Harry!" He jumped violently as something touched his shoulder. It was only now he realised he'd been hearing someone saying his name in the outside world for a while.

"What?" he mumbled, raising his head up from his hands. The effect of the shaking quickly dispersed the pleasant haze of the potion.

Draco was hovering in front of the sofa, a very worried look on his face. "Do you know who you are?"

It was rather worrying that this was a reasonable question.

"Harry. M'fine. Just tired. And doped up on that sedative Snape suggested. I broke the bake sale news to the Slytherins today."

"Oh yeah?" Draco dropped onto the sofa beside him and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "How did it go?"

"About as well as expected. It's a good thing you suggested allowing them to use it as a Muggle Studies project. That alone got most of the older ones on side."

"Thought it might. You're lucky to have me around. They would eat you alive otherwise – Dark Lord Slayer or no."

"Trust me, I know. I was much more scared of facing off with them than I was of facing off with Voldemort."

"What, seriously?"

Harry laughed at Draco's expression. "At least I had luck and experience on my side when it came to old Snake-face."

"Gryffindors." Draco shook his head.

Harry squinted at Draco's face, shoving his glasses on straight so he could make out the details. "By the way – why do you have green pimples in the shape of a satanic symbol on your face?"

Draco sighed and flopped back tiredly on the sofa. "Merlin, you really are an uneducated barbarian, Potter. It's not a 'satanic symbol'. It's an ancient rune meaning 'change'. The potion to change my mother into a ferret is a lot harder than I first expected. There was a small explosion that hit me in the face."

"Your face?" Harry sat up in alarm. "You're lucky it just gave you a case of evil acne. Isn't there some sort of…visor you could use?"

"I don't have one," Draco said. "And Snape said it would wear off in a few hours. Less if I pop them, but - you know - eew."

"I'll buy you one," Harry said. "Can you order one by owl?"

"Don't be an idiot. I'm fine. Those potions visors cost a fortune because of all the protective spells and things they have to use."

Harry jutted his jaw. "If you're going to be helping me make a potion that makes me Master of Death, I reckon buying you a protective visor is the least I can do."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Draco tilted his chin and gave him a crooked smile. Harry blinked. It was the least sarcastic smile Draco had ever pointed in his direction and it was distinctly unnerving. "All right. Knock yourself out."

_:-Oh Godric, please do,-: _James added. _:-My brain can't cope with any more inane Slytherin drivel.-:_

Before Harry could answer either comment, there was a knock at the door.

"Please just ignore it," Draco begged. "I can't be bothered to move."

"It might be important," said Harry. "I can't just ignore it. And no one can see you – especially like that. Go hide out in the bedroom."

Grumbling, Draco heaved himself up from the sofa and staggered into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Harry opened the door to see Alex and Daniel hovering outside.

"Hello, boys," he greeted tiredly. "You do know it's only half an hour away from curfew, don't you?"

"Don't worry, professor, we're not here to stay," Alex assured him, even as he bustled past Harry into the living room, herding Daniel in front of him. "We just came to see if you're all right. Daniel said you told the Slytherins about how you're making them do a bake sale and how you nearly got rebelled on except they're scared you're gonna off them with _Expelliamus_ and Professor Snape was giving them the stink-eye from one of the creepy paintings in their common room."

Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Daniel. The tiny, silent Slytherin child stared back unblinkingly. "He said all that, did he?"

"Well," Alex admitted, "it did take it much longer. And he had to take lots of not-talking breaks in between. That's why we had to come over so late."

"I'm fine, thank you. Really. I have special professory powers that mean I won't ever get beaten up by a bunch of students."

Harry may have been lying through his teeth, but it seemed to work because the children visibly relaxed.

"You sure you're okay, though, Professor?" Alex said. "Only, you're sort of swaying. And …er…greenish-looking."

"I'm fine. Honestly. This is a normal look for someone who has just spent an afternoon teaching Slytherin and Hufflepuff fourth years DADA."

"All right, then. I guess we'll see you in class tomor –"

Alex broke off when there was a loud crash from Harry's bedroom and Draco's distinctive voice yelping in pain and cursing. Two pairs of wide eyes turned to look at Harry who closed his own and sagged against the doorframe, too tired to think of a decent excuse.

"Just a friend staying over. Nothing to worry about boys."

"In your bedroom?" Alex questioned. "A _bedroom_ friend? Is that why you're hiding him?"

Harry winced. "Not a 'bedroom friend'. Just a friend. In my bedroom."

_:-Merlin, Harry. Could you be more unconvincing?-: _James sounded half-amused. _:-I don't even believe you, and I know you're telling the truth.-:_

"It's okay," Alex assured him earnestly. "My mum says there's nothing wrong with boys having boys as bedroom-friends. Even if people usually get weird about it."

_:-Kill me now,-:_ Harry begged silently.

_:-No way,-: _Sirius said. _:-This is much too fun.-:_

"You're looking for a stone."

All attention in the room turned to Daniel who blinked at Harry with large black eyes. He gave one of his disconcerting smiles and Harry has the distinctly unsettling feeling that the tiny Slytherin was trying to save him from embarrassment by changing the subject.

"You what, mate?" Alex asked his friend.

"It won't come when you call," Daniel added. "The trees whisper about it."

Harry felt his eyebrows rise. With a frisson of fear, he wondered whether the trees had whispered about the Resurrection Stone's deeper powers to the child. "Yeah? Can you tell me how to call it so it will come?"

"The family who owned it already solved that problem. The ones from my flame."

"I'm sorry, Daniel," Harry said, as his tired mind creaked into gear, "but can you explain that in everyday-speak?"

But Daniel's attention had wandered over Harry's shoulder to the closed door of his bedroom. He tilted his head to the side. "Your bedroom-friend is trying to hide the mess."

"For the last time he is _not_ my bedroom-friend." Harry had no idea when the dash had mentally interested itself between the two words, but suspected Marauderish involvement. "And I think it's time the two of you headed off to bed."

"Right, Professor," Alex said, giving him a cheeky grin. "Say 'hi' to your not-bedroom-friend for us. C'mon Daniel."

Harry shut the door behind them gratefully and leant against it for a few seconds. Then he pushed away and tried to prepare himself for what chaos Draco had created in the bedroom. He opened the door to see Draco crouched underneath the window picking up pieces of a shattered bottle of butterbeer. There was a bruise blossoming on his cheek and the room was littered with Harry's shoes.

"You tried to break into my trunk," Harry said, not feeling particularly surprised.

"I was frustrated and bored," said Draco, not sounding particularly guilty either.

Harry sighed and began collecting his shoes.

"You know, normal people don't curse their trunks to fire shoes at people who innocently try to pick the lock." Draco's tone was aggrieved.

"It was my Dad's idea," Harry said. "And you didn't have to try and pick the lock."

"Well, clearly you knew I would. You cursed it to attack me."

Harry shook his head and walked over to his trunk with his armful of shoes. "That's not what I meant." He used his knee to lever open the lid so he could drop his shoes back inside. "It wasn't locked, Draco. All you had to do was lift the lid."

Draco paused and sat back on his heels, a shard of glass in his hand as he stared at Harry open-mouthed. "You didn't lock it?"

"Of course not. It's in my bedroom. Who even comes in here except you and me?"

"That's exactly it! _I_ am here. Didn't you want to protect your things from me?"

"_Protect_ my things? From what?" Harry laughed. "I'm not hiding anything. Feel free to poke through my trunk if it keeps you out of mischief. Just not – you know – if it's going to make innocent children think you're my bedroom-friend."

Draco choked. "Your _what_ now?"

"Don't look at me like that. It's completely your fault. What else were they going to think when they found out I was hiding a bloke in my bedroom?"

"Please tell me that a bedroom-friend is not what I think a bedroom-friend is."

"I don't know. I'm drugged and tired and not exactly down with the adolescent lingo right now."

_:-Your use of the phrase 'down with the adolescent lingo' makes that abundantly clear,-: _Sirius commented. _:-That was already uncool in the 70s, I swear.-:_

"You're probably right," Harry agreed gloomily. "I heard it from McGonagall."

There was a weird mental shift in Harry's head as all four other occupants tried to simultaneously imagine a scenario when Professor McGonagall might have felt the need to use that particular turn of phrase.

_:-That had to have been before our time in here,-: _James said at last.

_:-It's not something one would easily forget,-: _Remus agreed, then yelped as Sirius gave him a mental pinch – something he had promised to do every time Remus used the word 'one' in that context in an effort to drag-Moony-kicking-and-screaming-into-the-twenty-first-century.

"I'm not your bedroom-friend," said Draco stiffly, lips pursed so his face looked particularly pointy (except for where it was swelling up in the pattern of a trainer's tread marks).

"I never said you were, you git." Harry sat on the end of his bed and frowned at Draco's defensive posture.

"Good. Because I'm not."

Harry's attention was drawn to Draco's hand which was clenched so tightly around the shard of glass that a steady trickle of blood was decorating the surface like the sort of stained-glass window Voldemort would have designed on a particularly irritable day.

"Your hand's bleeding."

"Well, if I had a wand, I wouldn't have to do this by hand, and then I wouldn't have to cut myself."

"Well, if you hadn't tried to break into my chest, that bottle wouldn't have got broken."

"Well if you hadn't cast such a stupid curse on your chest –"

"Look," Harry interrupted. "Just shut up and give me your hand. Don't look at me like that. I'm offering to heal you, for heaven's sake, not to be your bedroom-friend."

_:-And it just keeps getting awkwarder,-: _James said, sounding remarkably cheerful for a person who has just had to listen to his own son denying propositioning his male ex-school-rival and part-time hostage.

_:-'Awkwarder' is not a word.-:_

_:-Put a sock in it, Moony. One shouldn't correct one's friend's grammar – OW! Padfoot!-:_

_:-You said 'one' in that annoying way.-:_

_:-I was doing it ironically.-:_

_:-I stand by my pinch. It's equally annoying ironic or not.-:_

_:-I really need to get out of here,-: _Lily whimpered. _:-It's like drowning in a lukewarm pool of testosterone. And not in a good way.-:_

"Ew," Harry said. "I think I'm going to be sick. And not in a good way," he added scathingly to Lily.

"There's a good way?" Draco asked, watching his wound heal as Harry traced his wand over it.

"Oh yes. I always think rather fondly of that time I puked all over your shoes."

"Tosser."

"Oh, you love it, _bedroom-friend_."

"I hate you so much right now."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"So that'll be ten inches on why it is not a good idea to sneak a blast-ended skrewt into a dorm room and feed it on blood pops, no matter how tempting it seems at the time."

Harry leant against his desk and relaxed as his sixth years scribbled down the homework assignment and began packing up. "You're dismissed when you're ready."

_:-I have to say, Harry, you're really getting a grip on this professor thing,-: _Remus said warmly.

_:-Thanks,-: _Harry smiled. _:-I'm beginning to learn that it's all about not letting them know you're fallible and /or human.-:_

"Professor?"

Harry looked up to see a skinny sixth year Slytherin boy hovering in front of him.

"Yes, Cyrus?"

"Would fruit cake or lemon drizzle cake get me better marks for the cake assignment?"

Harry blinked at him. "Er…"

"Only I have to get my Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. if I want to work at the Ministry and this is going to be my main project. I found a Muggle recipe book in my great grandmother's old things, but I think the Muggle she got it off must have been holding it when they got melted so most of the pages are sort of stuck together. Only the fruit cake and lemon drizzle one are readable."

"Er…when you say 'melted'…"

"Oh, she used to do that to Muggles. As a sort of dinner time entertainment thing. I wouldn't though, professor," he added hurriedly. "I swear my family gave up Muggle-melting at least two generations ago. We didn't even curse the nose off my second cousin and he's a squib."

_:-The Dorgon family,-: _Sirius supplied. _:-Good old-fashioned pure bloods. Originated as a branch off the Bulstrode family tree, I believe. They got cut off for being too kind to Muggles, so they invented Muggle-melting as a way to get back into good graces. Luckily it never really caught on with other pureblood families. My own grandmother said it was because you can never get the smell of burning Muggle out of the drapes.-:_

Harry stared at Cyrus Dorgon, who was sandy-haired and freckled and didn't look like someone whose recent ancestors used human torture as dinner entertainment. If cake-making was going to change the views of a generation, he was damn well going to make sure he did everything he could to move the process along as smoothly as possible.

"Okay. Um. Firstly, I think we need to get you a Muggle recipe book whose pages aren't glued together with burnt human flesh. And then I suggest you choose a recipe you think sounds appealing and keep practising it until it comes out right, okay? Professor McGonagall is setting up a Muggle kitchen in that old Charms classroom next to the portrait of Gnorgrass the Ignoble. Go see Madame Pince. I asked her to order some recipe books in for the library and they were due to arrive this afternoon."

"Right. Thanks, professor. By the way – about the assignment on the blast-ended skrewts?"

"What about it?" Harry asked defensively.

"It's just…it's rather specific, isn't it? I'm guessing there won't be much research material on it."

"God, I hope not," Harry shuddered. "Trust me – it's something you want to learn in theory. Not in practice. That's why I set it. Use your common sense."

_:-Good luck finding that in a pureblood,-: _James put in cheerfully. _:-It was generally bred out years ago as a superfluous trait.-:_

"Right. Okay." Cyrus picked up his bag and prepared to leave. "Well, I'll see you next lesson, then."

"Goodbye. Oh, and Cyrus?"

"Yeah?"

"Throw that book away please. And then wash your hands thoroughly before cooking anything. Use soap. And bleach. And possibly a gentle scouring charm."

"Don't worry, Professor. The temperature was so high anything unhygienic was probably burnt away as it happened."

Harry winced. "Humour me."

"Right you are, professor."

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

The weekend dawned cold, dry and clear, the crisp January air piercing Harry's winter robes like malevolent knitting needles. Sunshine lanced through the leafy canopy of the Forbidden Forest to create dappled patches of light on the bracken-strewn undergrowth of the forest. The path they were following was rough at best, and Ron, taking the lead, was employing over-enthusiastic blasting charms to clear it, as though attacks from small evil magical creatures that might have made their homes in the overgrown tangle happened only to other people.

"Again, Ron!" Teddy shrieked excitedly, clutching at Hermione's hand as he toddled in the smoking wake of Ron's destruction.

"The only good thing about this outing," Draco said from underneath the invisibility cloak, "is that Weasley might die in the next few minutes."

"You didn't have to come," Harry pointed out. "In fact I remember advising you against it. Repeatedly."

"Like I'd trust a trio of Gryffindor idiots and a blue-haired toddler to do things properly. Especially when they're rushing into it half-cocked. Grow up, Weasel," he added, when Ron sniggered at the word 'cocked'.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm with Malfoy on this one," Hermione said, lifting Teddy over a particularly large tree root. "I don't know why we're heading back into the forest before we've even figured out what Daniel meant by 'the Gaunts already solved that problem'. I mean, we already know the stone is resistant to the _Accio_ charm. A cryptic message from and eleven-year-old Peverell descendent is not going to change that."

"I thought being at the scene might be inspirational," Harry said, unwilling to admit that he _had_ been trying to figure it out all week and hadn't even come close to a breakthrough. "And you know the full moon's in a few days so I'm going to be fairly useless for a few days after that. The sooner we get this done the better."

They broke into the clearing near to where Harry had dropped the Resurrection Stone and he paused, turning in a slow circle to take it in. The area was beginning to get more and more overgrown – changing, slowly, from the horrific death-scene he still remembered it so vividly.

"So this is where my mother saved your life," Draco said, in a light tone that fell flatter than a clever hedgehog meeting a three-wheeler car for the first time.

"This is where I died."

"You didn't die. My mother saved you. She told me."

"She did," Harry agreed. "After I came back."

"From the dead?" Draco scoffed. "No one can do that!"

There was a brief, pointed silence and Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. No one _could_ do that until _now_."

"I don't think I was all the way dead. I was…in between. I was given the choice to come back or…go on."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, wasn't much of a choice now, was it," Draco said. "Do you want to die? No? Back to it, then."

Harry felt his lips thin. "My choice? My mother, my father, my godfather, Remus, Fred, Dobby, Hedwig, peace and a chance to rest…or a final battle with Voldemort which I was likely to lose in some horrible, gory way, watching my friends die, letting down the Wizarding world…" He laughed. "It wasn't a hard choice. It was impossible. I made it anyway."

"You would have preferred to die?" Draco said, looking both shaken and irritated about the fact that he was.

Harry straightened, looked around the clearing again which was remarkably serene and quiet for somewhere that had been the sight for such evil and violence. "I'm here, aren't I?" he said, forcing his voice into brisk light-heartedness. Then: "Er…where am I?"

Remus looked around him in surprise. He wasn't quite sure where he'd just been, but he was equally sure it hadn't been the Forbidden Forest. He and the other Marauders rarely came here outside the full moons. He blinked. "Did someone hit me with an _Obliviate _charm? Is this a prank? Padfoot? Prongs?"

He turned and saw a group of people watching him warily. A tall young man with carrot-coloured hair and a long nose. A young woman with bushy hair that was making a valiant attempt to escape a severe bun. A child with turquoise hair. A young man's floating head with a mop of white-blonde hair and features that were unmistakably of pureblood Black descent.

"Remus?" the young woman asked tentatively.

"Do I know you? What's going on? Is that James's invisibility cloak?" He took a step forward and nearly stumbled. There was something weird and unfamiliar about his body. He looked down to see hands that weren't his own. Unfamiliar robes and shoes. Unfamiliar frame – more like James's gangly limbs than his own. He held up his hands to examine them more clearly. "Did I take Polyjuice Potion? Because I think something went wrong. I don't remember…" He looked up to the others. "Is that you, Prongs?" he asked the floating head.

"Um. Not exactly," the young woman answered before the head had a chance. "Listen. This would be easier if we knew how old you think you are."

"How old I _think_ I am?" This was getting too strange to be normal – even for him. He fumbled for his wand, found it in his back pocket and drew it on the group. Then he frowned and withdrew it. "This isn't my wand. And I know I'm fifteen." He paused then, something not quite feeling right. "No wait! I'm older than that. Eighteen. But then why am I at Hogwarts? I'm not. I left Hogwarts. A long time ago. I'm twenty one – no! Twenty-two." He looked up at the floating head again, agitated. "You _can't_ be James. He's…he's dead. Dead. And Sirius." The pain of it washed over him as he remembered again and he almost staggered under the force of it. "Sirius did it…b-b-betrayed h-him. But no. That was long ago, wasn't it? I've moved on. I d-did." Suddenly, like a rush of cool water after days in the desert, he remembered. "No wait! He's innocent! Sirius is innocent! He's…" Pain again, almost brutally physical. He swayed and pressed a hand to an unfamiliar chest in which an unfamiliar heart ached with familiar grief. "He's dead. I'm thirty-six…no. Older. I'm…" And then he remembered. "I'm dead." And at last, with a weird sort of lurch in perspective: "I'm Harry. And that was weird."

Harry looked up to see his friends staring at him open-mouthed.

"Okay, I'm in _awe_ of Lupin's mind," Ron said after a beat. "We didn't have to do anything. He just figured it all out himself. No panicking. No breaking down or handwringing. Just logic-logic-logic-BOOM! I'm Harry."

_:-Moony was always the cool-headed one,-:_ Sirius said proudly.

"Please note," Harry added, rubbing his forehead as a fuzzy, blinding headache began to build, "that when _Remus_ discovered himself in an unfamiliar body, he thought 'Oh dear, I accidentally took Polyjuice Potion', not 'Oh my God, I must cut my cock off!'" He gave his mother a pointed mental poke.

_:-He grew up in a Marauder dormitory,-: _she protested. _:-He was _used_ to weird spells being cast on him.-:_

_:-I'm sorry, Harry,-:_ Remus said.

_:-Not your fault,-:_ Harry said tiredly. _:-At least you didn't scream like a girl and start attacking your own reflection.-:_

James's mental presence flushed rosy and emanated a definite tone of sulkiness. _:-It was one time. And I thought I was looking at my Uncle Gordon's charmed mirror. I told you about that time my creepy cousin spied on me wanking through it, right?-:_

_:-Way more times than I was comfortable with,-: _Harry assured him hurriedly.

_:-Well, no offence, but you looked alarmingly like him for a moment.-:_

_:-I look alarmingly like you, according to everyone.-:_

_:-Strong bloodline,-: _James said, with a lurching, mental shrug that jarred against Harry's headache. _:-Reoccurring features pop up a lot. I should have remembered the creepy bugger joined a wizarding circus and died after Apparating into a vat of pumpkin custard. Long story,-: _he added following the bemused silence in Harry's head.

"You alright, mate?" A large, warm hand came down on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently. Harry looked up at Ron's concerned face and suddenly felt ridiculously grateful his friend had agreed to join them again this weekend. From the age of eleven, it had been the two of them. Hermione as well, of course, but it was different with Ron. Ron had invited him into his scruffy, chaotic life right from the beginning. He hadn't been rich or popular or good-looking or intellectual. But he had been Ron: stubborn, loyal, gangly Ron who invited Harry into his family and stood by him when no one else would. Ron, who was a lot more intelligent than he would have people believe, even though he often let his hot-headed emotions get in the way.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Let's just find the damn thing so I never have to come back here again. Where's Teddy?"

"'Nake!" Teddy announced, from where he had been digging through the earth at Hermione's feet. He held the hugest earthworm Harry had ever seen clutched in a grubby fist. It was purple with yellow spots. "Look – Ssssssssss!"

"Hermione," Harry said in alarm, starting forward.

"It's okay. It's a negdog worm. Relation to the common bookworm. It's harmless. Eats the bark of magical trees and sprouts wings when it gets frightened."

Sure enough, the worm was squirming in Teddy's hand, it's back glowing and bulging until suddenly, with a quiet 'pop', two fragile, fleshy wings emerged between the child's fingers.

"Harry! 'Nake _fly_."

Harry knelt next to his godson. "That's very nice, Teddy. But the snake is scared, okay? We must let it go." He gently pried the little fingers open.

Teddy's lip trembled. "Want 'nake. Please, Harry." The skin of his plump little cheeks turned purple with yellow spots to mirror the worm.

"I don't get why you don't just buy the kid a snake," Draco said, from where he was leaning nonchalantly against a tree. "He's completely obsessed with them."

"Because they're _snakes_, Draco. And he's a toddler."

"I'd have thought you'd like snakes, seeing as you can talk to them and everything."

"_Could_ talk to them. It was Voldemort's power. It died with him."

"Really? Have you tried since then?"

"Look, just shut up for once in your life, please." Harry's head felt as though someone was cooking popcorn in it – baking hot with regular, nauseating spike of pain that popped just behind his eyeballs. He held up the wand he still had clasped in his hand from Remus's brief stint in his body. "_Accio_ bloody Resurrection Stone." He looked around hopelessly. "See? Useless."

"Let me try," Hermione said in her most annoying Professor-McGonagall-voice. Harry had been incredibly disturbed to find out that Ron found it hot. "_Accio_ Resurrection Stone!" She looked around expectantly, her expression falling when the stone failed to leap at her command. "Are you sure you dropped it here, Harry? It _was_ a very stressful situation and –"

"_Yes_, I'm sure," he interrupted. "I told you I tried that already."

"Maybe it can only be summoned by a member of the Gaunt family," she mused. "Or maybe we need to use a slightly different pronunciation of '_Accio'_. Maybe it can only be summoned if you have a traditional pureblood accent. Hey – Malfoy! You have a mouthful of marbles when you talk. You give it a go."

"Why should I?"

"Oh don't be difficult."

"I'll try it," Ron volunteered. "I'm pureblood. _Accio_ Resurrection Stone!"

It failed to appear.

"I thought your family hadn't talked posh for decades," Harry said. "You definitely don't."

_:-Let me do it,-: _Sirius said. _:-I can do posh pureblood.-:_

_:-You have to make an effort _not_ to do posh pureblood,-: _James said, and was given a vicious mental-poke in retaliation.

Harry moved aside and allowed his godfather to take over.

"_Accio_ Resurrection Stone! Nope? Well, bang goes that theory, Hermione."

_:-Give me my body back now,-: _Harry demanded.

_:-With pleasure. That's one hell of a headache you're nursing there, mate.-:_

There was an impatient huff from Draco and he straightened from his slouch against the tree. "This is really what you've been doing all this time? Saying the words in a bunch of different voices? Great Merlin, no wonder none of you got into Slytherin or Ravenclaw. What a pack of sodding dunces."

"Yeah?" Ron snapped, rounding on him. "Well, if you thing you can do any better, go ahead!"

Draco shrugged, the picture of dishevelled, pureblood arrogance. "Your wand, Potter."

Harry reluctantly handed it over. He was not amused by the fact that the more often Draco used it, the more easily it seemed to respond to him. It was like his wand was it was _cheating_ on him. With Draco bloody Malfoy of all people. Draco twirled the wand Western-style and smirked at them.

"Watch and learn, Gryffindorks. Watch and learn." He raised the wand. "_Accio_ the Gaunt Family Ring."

There was a breathless silence, then the quiet sound of ripping grass as something wedged in the earth struggled to get free.

"Don't touch it!" Remus yelled through Harry's body, shoving Malfoy aside so the ring flew past him and rebounded off the tree.

Harry slipped back into his body to find himself lying astride Draco's recumbent body staring down into wide grey eyes.

"What's your bloody problem, Lupin?" he demanded.

"Wow," Harry said. "You recognised his voice with only three words?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, you tosser. Only a werewolf can move as fast as you just did then."

"Really? Werewolves can move with super-speed?"

"Didn't you know? Now get off, you perv."

"Well, sorry for saving you," Harry said, extracting himself from a tangle of slim, pale limbs.

"From what? Being infected by essence of You-Know-Who's-Ancestor cooties?"

"It's the Resurrection Stone, you idiot. God knows who would pop up if you touched it. Can you imagine what it would be like to have Bellatrix's ghost hanging out with us? She'd be even more irritating than you."

"I can assure you I was not fond enough of my psychotic aunt for that to have been a problem. Anyway, she might have been useful for your insane bake sale scheme. She may have been a few pumpkin pies short of a picnic hamper, but that woman could bake a mean lemon drizzle cake. You're still having issues in that area last I heard."

"Shut up and don't touch the ring. Better to be safe than sorry." Harry stood up, brushing leaves and dirt off his robes with a grimace. He turned to see Hermione staring frozen and open-mouthed at Draco.

"How did you know to do that?" she demanded eventually, voice shrill.

"It was obvious, Granger. The Gaunts set the stone in the ring so that even if the stone was resistant to summoning, they could summon the ring and it would bring the stone with it. 'The Gaunts already took care of that problem' – pretty obvious to anyone with an iota of common sense."

"If you weren't such an annoying jerk I would congratulate you."

"If you weren't such a prissy know-it-all I would resist the urge to gloat intolerably for the next three days at every opportunity. As it is…"

"Seriously, mate," Ron said to Harry, as he pulled his sleeve over his bare hand and picked up the ring without touching it. "How do you stand sharing a room with him?"

"He grows on you."

"Like mutant fungus."

Harry looked up at Draco who seemed to have forgotten his dislike of children enough to scoop up Teddy and do a gloating victory dance around Hermione's scowling figure. Teddy howled with glee and clapped his hands, hair turning white-blonde as Draco ended his dance with an elegant sweeping bow that had Teddy clinging on round his neck and screaming delightedly.

"Something like that," Harry murmured.


	21. The Creation of Geoffrey

**The Creation of Geoffrey**

"It's done!" Draco announced, slamming into the room and sweeping off the invisibility cloak with a flourish. Luckily for him, his ingrained Slytherin sense of self-preservation meant that he just managed to duck before he was brutally pummelled under the pressure of twenty-three high-powered and extremely aggressive fairycakes.

"Get down!" Harry yelled from where he was crouched behind an overturned table. They were in one of the temporary practise-kitchens Professor McGonagall had arranged for Slytherin students' experimenting before the bake sale, though currently it looked like a battlefield from the Epic War of the Flour and the Chocolate Icing.

"What the – ?" Draco ducked another volley of fairycakes, then sprinted across the room to dive behind Harry's table shield. He was, Harry noticed, surprisingly agile when the situation called for it. "What on earth have you done this time, Potter?" he hissed.

"It's okay," Harry assured him. "I have it under control."

"You could have fooled me."

"All right," Harry amended. "The chocolate gateaux has it under control."

The look Draco gave him then left no doubt as to his views on the state of Harry's sanity.

"I'm serious. Look over there – under that Welsh dresser." Harry pointed to the little dark space across the room, then turned to see Draco's pale brows furrowing as he squinted in that direction.

"I don't see…Merlin's balls! What the hell is that?"

Harry grinned. "That's my _pièce de résistance__. _I'm thinking of calling him Geoffrey."

From under the dresser, Harry's most recent baking creation began to emerge. It moved with the same sort of smooth fluidity as a snail, leaving a trail of crumbs in its wake. Although it was essentially a large circular cake with more icing than is healthy for the human digestive system, it still managed to convey an attitude of stealthy menace. The peaks of chocolate icing dipped like scowling eyebrows. A long, cocoa-coloured tongue emerged from the cream filled centre layer and licked the front edge of the gateaux like a large cat reacting to the sight of a mouse lounging in a tin of tuna. 

Draco gaped, forgetting, for the moment, to keep behind the cover of the table. At the sight of his blonde head emerging above the protective shield, the malignant fairycakes made a sharp turn from where they had been battering uselessly against the glass of the window like transfigured bumblebees and headed back towards him for a third attack.

Draco yelped and ducked again, but he needn't have worried. As they passed overhead, the chocolate gateaux leapt skywards, the cream-filled layer gaping like an open mouth and snapped two of the slower faiycakes out of the air.

_:-Mate, that thing is a beast,-: _Sirius said reverently.

"Mordred and Morgana, Potter, where did you get that fairycake recipe? It wasn't one of Voldemort's was it?"

Harry laughed breathlessly. "I thought you said he never pranced around your house in a frilly apron baking fairycakes."

"I said I never _saw_ him do it."

"Well," Harry said, risking a peep over the edge of the table, "I don't think we need to worry either way. Geoffrey will deal with them."

"Geoffrey!" Draco turned to look at him, face a picture of exasperation. "And then who, pray tell, will deal with _Geoffrey_? That thing looks rabid."

"He saved us."

"It's a sentient, malevolent chocolate gateaux. What are you going to do – keep it as a pet?"

_:-He has a point, love,-:_ Lily said.

Harry deliberately avoided Draco's eyes, picking sugar from under his nails.

"In the name of Salazar, Potter, you're not serious! If you wanted a pet we could have got you a bloody toad or something. What on earth possessed you to charm _cakes_ of all things."

"I didn't charm them," Harry said indignantly. "It just happened when I finished icing. I don't know what I did wrong." Aunt Petunia's cakes had never got up and attacked anyone – with the small exception of the pudding in his second year. But that had been Dobby's fault.

Draco's eyebrows furrowed and he turned peer over at Geoffrey. The gateaux, at that moment, was munching happily on the second-to-last fairy cake while the final one buzzed in angry circles in the air above it.

"Where did you get the ingredients?" he asked.

_:-Ooooh…-: _James, Sirius, and Remus said together suddenly.

_:-Well, that explains it,-: _Remus added.

"Explains what?" Harry asked.

"Potter, kindly at least attempt to make sense when you're speaking to normal people," Draco said, looking long-suffering. "Are you looking to be shut away at St. Mungo's?"

Harry scowled, but couldn't really think of a decent comeback. "I got them from the house-elves," he said instead. "I asked them for their best ingredients. Top quality. I gave them money to buy them for me."

"Of course you did," Draco rolled his eyes. "You know, considering you are actually the most famous hero and icon of the wizarding world, you are still remarkably ignorant about it."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning.

_:-You asked the elves for top quality ingredients,-: _Remus explained. _:-In the wizarding world, the most expensive ingredients you can buy are those that have been heavily charmed for specific purposes. Usually, you only use one charmed ingredient per dish that you produce. What you did was mix a whole bunch of them together – like a potion. I guess this is the result.-:_

"Someone in there explaining your idiocy to you?" Draco asked, arms folded, pale eyebrow arched.

"Shut up. How was I supposed to know? No one ever told me."

_:-You're right, Harry,-: _James said, sounding genuinely contrite. _:-I've got to be honest – it never occurred to me either. I never was much of a cook. None of us were. Even Lily only did it because she had to.-:_

_:-And neither of you would eat the results when I did,-: _Lily added.

_:-We never could figure out how she was so good at potions.-:_

"It's finished the fairycakes," Draco said, eyes fixed on the gateaux which, had it been a person, would have been licking its lips. "You reckon it's going to start on people?"

"Of course not," said Harry, indignant. "He _saved _us."

"It just devoured twenty-three mutant fairycakes in under five minutes."

"Come on – give him a break. Look at his little face." He came out from behind the table and stared down at his creation. The eyebrow-like peaks in the icing pointed appealingly in his direction. "I always wanted a pet," he said, without thinking. "I used to have a centipede called Puff. I kept him in my cupboard, but Aunt Petunia found him in his little tub and boiled him."

"_Boiled_ him?"

"In a pan. To teach me a lesson. She made me drop him in. Lucky he wasn't a kitten, eh?" Harry turned to look at Draco only to find the other boy staring at him with a wide-eyed, unreadable expression on his face. Harry blinked, confused. "I'm sorry? Centipede fan? I wouldn't have told you if I knew."

"Your aunt made you drop your pet in a pot of boiling water?"

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds –"

"And you'd called it Puff." Draco looked genuinely distraught. "How old were you?"

"I don't know. Five-ish maybe. Why are you getting so worked up? It was just a centipede. I honestly didn't drop any kittens into boiling water, you know."

_:-Help me!-: _Harry appealed silently to his family. _:-I've stumbled into a twilight zone where Draco Malfoy is a centipede fancier.-:_

_:-Oh, Harry!-: _Lily wailed and mentally enveloped him in a hug.

"Seriously – what's going on with everyone?" Harry struggled to free his mind from his mother's clutches. "Is there some sort of sacred bond between wizardkind and centipedes that no one told me about?"

Draco looked at him with big, grey liquid eyes. "We'll keep the gateaux!" he declared.

"Er…good." Harry shuffled back awkwardly. "Though you should probably know he's trying to eat your shoelaces."

Draco's face stiffened in a horrified grimace as he tried to free his foot from the eagerly chomping gateaux without touching it. "It's okay," he said manfully, although his voice was two octaves higher than normal. "I never liked them anyway. It just needs to be housebroken."

"Yeah? Any ideas how to housetrain a chocolate gateaux?"

_:-We'll figure it out, lad,-: _James said, in a kindly tone of voice. _:-Don't you worry.-:_

"Right." Harry was feeling the need for fresh air and possibly a brisk jog. Anything that made sense in a Muggle sort of way. "We'll do that then."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"So why did you burst in on my baking session earlier anyway?" Harry asked as he and Draco collapsed in front of the fire in his living room. Geoffrey appeared to be snoozing off his large meal in an old cake-box under the desk. It had been hard work to wrestle him to Harry's quarters while still keeping Draco invisible. They were both rather splattered in chocolate icing.

"Oh, yes!" Draco sat up, exhaustion apparently forgotten. "I finished the potion for my mother. Now all we need to do is break into the Ministry, turn her into a hamster, swap her for a house-elf, and we're home free."

Harry blinked. "A hamster? I thought the potion would turn her into a ferret."

"You need essence of the animal you're turning into. I didn't have essence of ferret, but one of the Hufflepuff firsties has a hamster. It doesn't matter, does it? As long as it's small."

"You scalped a poor child's hamster? Why couldn't you have got me or Hermione to switch you to ferret mode and used your own 'essence'?"

"Have you learned _nothing _in the last couple of hours?" Draco flung up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know how many more ways I can say this, Potter – _don't mix magical ingredients unless you know what you're doing!_" He gestured meaningfully to the snoozing gateaux. "I'm a magical ferret. And besides, I didn't 'scalp' the little beast. Just pulled out a bit of fur."

"Still…"

"Still nothing! Now when are we breaking her out? I don't want to leave it any longer. She's been in there with only Bobsy for company for months. I shudder to think how she's coping."

Harry groaned. "Do you know how much I have on my plate at the moment?"

"You promised!"

"I know I did. I know. Just…" Harry rubbed his head, though it did little to alleviate the dull ache that had taken up permanent residence there. "We'll need another house-elf."

"Done."

Harry squinted at Draco through his fingers. "A small one. Kreacher said Bobsy was your smallest, and even he barely fitted through the bars of the cell."

"I'll get Althie back," Draco said. "She's tiny. We lent her to my Great Aunt Grizolda when she traded in her eyes. I'll give her one of our others for the time being. She'll never even notice, the crabby old hag."

"She traded in her _eyes_? What on earth did she get in exchange that made that a good deal?"

"Trust me," Draco shuddered. "You don't want to know."

"Okay, so we have an elf," Harry said, mind grinding into gear. "What else?"

_:-You'll need more of George's special Polyjuice Potion,-: _Lily suggested. _:-Both for the new elf and to top up the reserves Bobsy was using. The Ministry are clearly dragging their feet when it comes to releasing suspects, so who knows how long they'll be in there.-:_

_:-And it'll give you a chance to figure out if he really is seeing Fred's disembodied spirit,-: _Remus added.:-_and if we can somehow rope him into the get-a-body-back spell.-:_

"Animal transfiguration potion, Polyjuice Potion, invisibility cloak, house-elf," Harry mumbled, ticking them off on his fingers. "Luckily I know the spell to get into the cells from last time."

"You've got to be joking," Draco said.

"What?"

"You're not bloody doing it."

"Why?" Harry asked, outraged. "I was good enough for you, but not for your mother?"

"You spent most of yesterday morning convinced you were a psychotic ex-con with a fetish for aging werewolves."

_:-Hey!-:_ Sirius said. _:-I'll have you know I found him just as attractive before he was aging.-:_

_:-Not helping, Padfoot.-:_

"I had to get Granger to tie you to a chair and gag you, just to prevent you from going on a hell-bent rampage to bring about the downfall of all Slytherins and the reunion of you to your 'heroic godson' and the aforementioned aging werewolf. Any of this ringing any bells?"

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

"Make one of your minions do it."

"You want me to send one of my two best friends into the bowels of the Ministry at a time when all the Aurors are on high alert to rescue the mother of the idiot who made their lives miserable from the moment they met?" Harry laughed.

"Do you have a better plan?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He scowled.

"Not the Weasel," Draco added airily, leaning over to add a new log to the cheerfully blazing fire. "Granger already knows the spell, and she is much less likely to screw everything up horrendously."

"How dare you –"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're an annoying, arrogant, prissy little git."

"But not wrong," Draco said smugly.

"Sometimes I just want to turn you into a ferret and feed you to the thestrals."

"I know." Draco smiled beatifically. "Infuriating, isn't it?"

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Harry!" George said, face lighting up as he opened the front door to the mirror-lined apartment above his shop. "To what do I owe the honour of a visit from He-Who-Should-Be-Saving-The-World-Again-Rather-Than-Slumming-It-With-Dastardly-Slytherins?"

Harry winced. "I take it you got the _Daily Prophet_ this morning then?"

"Hard to miss, mate. The Headline alone took up two pages. Come on in. Mum just left. There's now enough Scottish butter fudge in the pantry to feed an army."

Harry followed George into the living room, stealing sidelong glances at the other man's reflection in the many full-length mirrors as they went. There was nothing to hint that it was anything other than ordinary. They settled on the lime green dragon-leather sofas with a couple of bottles of butterbeer and a tin of fudge.

"So?" George asked, leaning forward. "I take it this isn't a social visit seeing as it's term time and I know you've got your hands full."

"No," Harry admitted. "I actually need more of that Polyjuice you developed for house-elves."

George exchanged a glance with his reflection in one of the many mirrors lining the room. "You're planning another prison break?"

"Erm…yes?"

George pursed his lips. "Listen, mate. You know we, of all people, are all for pushing the boundaries and breaking a few rules, but…" he frowned, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "This is the second time you're asking me to help you break suspected supporters of Voldemort from Ministry-run holding cells. I'm just not sure I'm comfortable doing that until you give me a bit more to go on."

"Come on, George. Draco's not exactly an evil mastermind. The most evil thing he did this week was to use up all the marmalade and put the empty jar back in the cupboard without replacing it."

"_Draco?_" George's blue eyes were massive. "And what do you mean 'used the marmalade'? Are you _living_ with him?"

Harry could have sworn that the reflection of George in his chair flopped back in shock a few seconds before the actual George did. It created a weird squirming sensation in his head that was even more weird and squirmingish than the weird and squirming mental sensations he had grown accustomed to.

"Well," he tried to explain, "I suppose, in the strictest sense…"

"Great Merlin!" George said suddenly. "That's why you wouldn't get back together with Ginny, isn't it? Fred always said the two of you were a little too obsessed with each other to be completely square. Oh, mate, no wonder you've always been so touchy about your love life. If this got to the _Prophet_ you would be slated_._"

"What – no! Why does _everyone_ assume that Malfoy is my bedroom-friend?"

There was an awkward pause.

"Bedroom-friend?" George repeated, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Shut up."

Harry's head was filled with the sniggers of the Marauders. Lily gave him a consoling mental pat that radiated maternal sympathy.

"Seriously, though," George said. "Is that what this is all about? I won't judge, you know."

"No!" Harry rubbed at the pounding ache that was growing in the centre of his forehead. "Listen. I just need you help to break Narsissa Malfoy out. That's it. End of my crime spree."

"_Narsissa Malfoy?_"

_:-You do realise you're not helping your case, right?-: _James said.

"It's not what you think," Harry said quickly. "Look…" He took a deep drink of his butterbeer then sat forward in his chair. "I started this whole thing all wrong. There's something I need to tell you. It's a really, really long story, and I'm going to need you to trust me."

"For you, Harry, we have nothing but time," said George, sharing a glance with his reflection.

"Right. Here goes." And Harry launched into his story, describing, as clearly as he could, everything from his death and meeting with Dumbledore at the Place-In-Between, to the moment he realised his family were in his head and everything that had happened since.

George, to his credit, listened quietly and attentively, although his eyes grew larger and larger as the story went on and his fingers, apparently unconsciously, had drifted towards the nearest mirror and now pressed against it, fingertip to fingertip with his twin reflection.

"…so now he's finished the potion to turn his mother into a hamster and Hermione's going to break into the Ministry to rescue her. And Snape's going to help with the Master of Death Potion, and Alex and Daniel are the other Peverell descendants and we need to get them to a church in London to do the ceremony without anyone noticing, and I'm trying to arrange a Slytherin bake sale and everyone thinks I should also be out there trying to beat Crouch Junior and his Dementor army as well."

Harry sat back, exhausted, and drained the last of his butterbeer.

George blinked twice, then turned to look at his reflection. Once again, Harry could have sworn that the movement of the expressions on their faces were slightly out of sync with one another. After a long moment, he turned back to look at Harry. "Well, you know what this means," he said.

"Er – what?"

"We can finally hear the end of that story about the hag, the goblin, and Herbert Biggleswozzle."

"You what?"

"Sirius had promised to finish it the next time we saw him and then he went and kicked the bucket before he could."

Harry floundered in a sea of bemusement.

_:-He's looking for proof, lad,-: _Remus explained gently.

_:-Let me take over,-: _Sirius said.

For once, Harry was glad to give up control.

"It's nice to know you Weasley twins have your priorities right," Sirius said through Harry's mouth, rounded aristocratic vowels slipping neatly into place. Harry distantly felt his body language go from exhausted droop to arrogant sprawl with a few small shifts of muscles.

George tensed in alarm, wand appearing in his hand.

Sirius's familiar bark-like laugh sprung from Harry's mouth and Harry's own wand slipped into his hand from the forearm wand-holster that James had insisted he start wearing over the past few weeks. Apparently Moody wasn't the only older wizard with a paranoia for accidently blasting off butt cheeks. Sirius spun Harry's wand in his hand with a dexterity that can only really be achieved by someone who grew up with a wand in his hand.

George's eyes followed the movement, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows. "I've never seen Harry do that."

"Harry can't," Sirius shrugged. "For someone whose such a good seeker, he's hopelessly inept with wand handling."

"You certainly sound like Sirius," George admitted. "I cannot even begin to tell you how disturbing it is."

"Like you're one to talk," Sirius said, nodding towards the mirror-lined walls.

"Fair point."

"So anyway." Sirius sat up, a marauderish grin spreading across Harry's features. "picking up where we left off - this goblin is well upset about the whole issue of the stolen armour and the accidental marriage proposal and decides to get revenge."

George sat intent and silent. Sometimes Harry forgot just how quick and intelligent the other young man was. The twins had always masked their quicksilver minds with absurd humour, ginger hair, and freckles, but at this moment, it was impossible not to see the blade-sharp wit behind blue eyes.

"He clubs together with the hag and they hatch a plan using the bindweed potion, the broomstick and the enchanted harp."

George suddenly looked revolted. "Please tell me this story isn't going where think it's going."

Another bark-like laugh. "It's going exactly where you think it's going. So that night, the hag gets into the kitchen and spikes his wine with the bindweed potion, then puts on the helmet from the armour with the visor down and waits until Herbert Biggleswozzle had finished eating and then goes in with the harp to –"

"Okay – stop! Stop!" George had relaxed , and to Harry's amazement, there were two bright points of colour high on his cheeks. "Seriously. Don't describe it. I'll never be able to look at look at applesauce or listen to harp music again without feeling nauseated if you carry on."

Harry decided he never ever wanted to hear the beginning of that story. If it could make a Weasley twin blush, it would probably scar him for the rest of his life.

"So you believe us?" Sirius asked.

"You pretty much had me from the start. There is nothing too bizarre to happen to our Harry, right, mate? But it's always good to check. Besides," he added, "he's been a lot more understanding about my situation than anyone else. No questions asked. It's only fair that I return the favour."

Harry felt a slab of guilt. He hadn't been as accepting of George's situation as the other man had thought. "That's sort of what we wanted to talk to you about," he said, taking over from Sirius.

George blinked. "Harry?"

"Yeah. Listen, George. How likely is it that we would be able to get Fred out of – you know – your reflection and into my head instead?"

The moment stretched between them, hot and filled with potential.

"You would do that?" George whispered eventually.

"Of course I would," Harry said immediately. "It's _Fred._"

"But…you said you were barely coping as it was. You have constant headaches. Your brain is breaking down. You're mentally becoming a werewolf every month. You're forgetting who you are."

"It's only for a bit longer," Harry pointed out. "And it's _Fred_."

George's breath hitched in his throat. Harry jerked his head towards the twin reflection which had unmistakably made an abortive gesture in George's direction. When his eyes fixed on it directly, though, it really did just look like a reflection.

"Would you excuse me for a moment, Harry?" George said, voice low and filled with some indefinable emotion.

"Yeah. Of course – yeah."

George stood and stumbled to the kitchen. He closed the door behind him.

_:-So…that went well, I thought,-: _James said brightly.

None of the others commented, all attention fixed on the door.

Harry could not have said how long George was gone. It could have been five minutes, it could have been twenty. Eventually, George emerged. His face was a ghastly white, his freckles standing out against his skin like drops of blood. His expression, though, was resolute.

"So?" Harry asked, heart thumping.

"No."

"Pardon?"

"No. We're not doing it."

"Why?"

"Well. Firstly I don't think we can. Fred is linked to me through some sort of…of…twin bond. We always had it and it never really went when he died. But I don't think he's actually _here. _Not in the sense that your family are here, anyway. The reason I sense him through mirrors and reflections, rather than in my head, is because he's on another plane of existence. A sort of parallel existence." George paced the length of the lounge, gesturing vaguely as he tried to get his point across. "He's here with me, but sort of in another dimension. Beyond the veil. No one else can see it except me because I have that link to him."

"I see him sometimes," Harry said. "Out the corner of my eye. I saw him wink. And sometimes he moves out of time with you."

"Yeah, well. You're the Master of Death, aren't you? You have all this strapped up potential floating around inside you."

"Even Ron said he started questioning himself sometimes," Harry added.

"Well he's family as well, right? He's also got a sort of link. Not like mine, but it's there."

Harry felt a wave of grief rise up inside him, and he rose to his feet to intercept George as he paced pack across the room again. "But all that doesn't matter," he said. He reached out to place a hand on George's shoulder, just below his missing ear. "You're right. I _am_ destined to be the Master of Death. If we put our minds to it, I'm sure we can take advantage of your connection to him to drag him all the way through into our dimension, or something. Whatever we have to do."

George avoided his eyes, turning his head towards the window, framed by its garish yellow curtains. "I'm sure you could, Harry. I don't think there's anything really beyond you. But we're not going to do it. I don't want you to."

"But why not?"

"Because if something went wrong, I might lose him forever. We might break our bond and I don't think I would survive that. He's my _twin_. I don't think I can be a whole person without him. And we wouldn't do that to you, mate."

George reached up to cover Harry's hand on his shoulder with his own. "We can see you, you know. You're underweight and puffy-eyed. You're clearly squinting through a god-awful migraine. You're struggling to keep track of conversations from one end to the other." He grabbed one of Harry's sleeves and shoved it up to his elbow, revealing the fading nail-gouges that criss-crossed his arms from the last full moon. "You're hanging on by a thread."

"I'm fine," Harry said, snatching his arm back and taking a step back.

"Harry." George shook his head. "Hold up your hand."

"What?"

"Hold it up."

Harry hesitated, then slowly raised his hand between them. It was trembling – not obviously, but continuously, every one of his muscles and tendons clenched and straining.

"The only time that stopped was when Sirius took over your body."

Harry stared at his hand. How had he not noticed? Was he shaking all over?

"We're not going to add to that. Fred and I," he shrugged. "We've got used to our new arrangement. We still discuss things. We still joke around. We're still twins. Yeah it's rubbish that he's not here in flesh, and that everyone is pretty much convinced I'm insane, but it works for us. We're solid. You though, mate. You need all the help you can get."

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. "So you'll help me?"

George tilted his head and grinned. "We'll pick up where Malfoy leaves off."

Harry gaped. That had come out of left field. "Huh? Malfoy? I told you, George, we're not –"

"Bedroom-friends, I know," George said, rolling his eyes. "But I was listening to your story and it sounds like he's still doing a lot to keep you from losing it altogether. You're friends, _real _friends, whether you want to admit to it or not. God knows why, but he's supporting you a hell of a lot more than the original agreement you came to required. Think on that, Harry."

Harry did think on that. He thought about Draco running a bath for him, or helping him smuggle Geoffrey back to his room, or reminding him of his duty to the Slytherins when it slipped his mind, or irritating him out of depressive mood swings. He thought of the few occasions where Draco had even stood up for him against Hermione or Ron. "Huh."

"Yeah."

"He's still a stuck up, snooty little git," Harry asserted.

George laughed. "Be honest – you wouldn't have him any other way."

"Shut up."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

The February twilight was chilly and laced with frost as it settled over Hogwarts. The Forbidden Forest was a shadowy tangle of trees and undergrowth that stretched out to the horizon on one side, and the long rough lawn spilled from the massive front doors of the castle and down towards the willow-fringed inky blackness of the lake. The castle itself was a forbidding silhouette against the silvery sky, dotted with warm yellow squares of lighted windows. One of these windows, on the west side of the castle, was attached to the small, but cosy living room of Hogwarts' current Transfiguration teacher, Hermione Granger. Right now, she was standing with her back to it, her arms folded and her foot tapping with the irritated, persistent beat of frustrated women everywhere. The three young men seated around the little table in the centre of the room were eyeing her warily.

"I'm just making it clear that I am incredibly unhappy with this plan," Hermione said.

"But why, Hermione?" Harry pleaded. "We've done it once already."

"Exactly! This is the second time you'll be forcing me to lock up an innocent creature in a cell in place of a human being who is much more deserving of being there."

"My mother is innocent," Draco said hotly. "They have no right to keep her there. Besides, the house-elves don't mind. They're not capable of getting bored."

"I hate to say it, Hermione, but we did promise the little ferret we would get his mum out," said Ron, eyeing his girlfriend's glowering face with trepidation.

Hermione sighed, then stomped over to the table and took her seat. "I suppose we did. I just think we need to get the elves out again as soon as we can. It's not fair locking them up."

"We will," Harry assured her. "One mission at a time."

Ron moved to pour her a cup of tea from the battered china set on the table. She took it gratefully and added a little milk to it. She reached for a chocolate biscuit, then frowned when she spotted the empty plate. "Where are all my biscuits?"

There was a loud belch from under the table.

"Geoffrey was hungry," Harry told her.

"Those were a Christmas present from my aunt," Hermione said, scowling at him. "They were from Harrods!"

"He has good taste."

Hermione gave up and sipped her tea. "So where is this new house-elf I'll be taking with me, then? We'll have to give her some lessons on being your mother, Malfoy."

"Hang on a sec. Althie!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione jumped when a tiny house-elf with ears hugely disproportionate to its frame materialised on the table in front of them dressed in a pillowcase that had the Malfoy crest embroidered on it.

"Yes, master," it squeaked.

"I spoke to you earlier about what I want you to do. Have you been practising?"

"Yes, master. Althie's being better than Bobsy, master, you'll see!"

"Let's see it then."

Althie closed her eyes seemed to transform before their eyes. The habitual, cowering posture that was common in most house-elves disappeared. Her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted, her tiny, pointed nose thrust towards the ceiling. Her little hands clasped in front of her in the genteel pose of an aristocratic woman. She opened her eyes.

"Now, Draco darling, what _are_ you doing associating yourself with this half-blood riff-raff? How many times do I have to tell you! You have pure blood in those veins – _Black_ blood. Do try to behave as if you care. And clean that robe, my dragon. You're really a disgrace!"

There were a few moments of shocked silence and Harry gradually became aware that his mouth was hanging open in shock.

"Well," Ron said eventually, voice awed. "She was right. She has Bobsy beaten hands down. If the Ministry hadn't done extensive tests to prove your mother wasn't a demon, ferret boy, I would have sworn she was possessing her."

Althie looked inordinately pleased. "Althie's been telling you she could do it, master. And your robe really is a disgrace, sir."

Draco scowled. "Be quiet, you little monster, or I'll make you iron your hands."

"Oh no, master. You can't be doing that to Althie. Althie's needing both hands to be your mother."

"Oh for Salazar's sake – just get out of here. I'll call you when I need you."

"Yes, master. Wash your robe, master."

"Get out!"

The house-elf disappeared with a snicker and a pop. Harry was shaking with the effort of containing, not only his own laughter, but the laughter of the other Marauders as well. Ron wasn't nearly so considerate and belted out his own amusement at full volume.

"Oh, Malfoy! She has you _owned_."

"No she doesn't."

"She totally does."

"She was always a troublesome one," Draco admitted. "It's why we sent her to my aunt in the first place. We felt they deserved one another."

Harry couldn't help a snigger that broke free and Draco turned to glower at him. "It's not funny!"

"It really, really is. Right, Hermione?"

But Hermione, to Harry's surprise, wasn't looking amused. In fact, she was staring at Draco with the same expression she used when trying to figure out an incredibly difficult Arithmancy problem. "You know," she said, "when I was working with SPEW we spent _ages_ trying to talk house-elves into rebelling. We got creature psychologists on the case and had dozens of volunteers trying to persuade them to stand up for themselves. And do you know what? Not a single one had any effect. We did not convince a _single_ elf. That's why we gave it up in the end. It just wasn't working. And yet here you are – a man whose family have owned your house-elves for generations, and you have not one, but _three_ house-elves who took rebellion and ran with it at the slightest provocation." She shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, I thought Dobby was an exception! But after seeing Bobsy and Althie as well…"

She leaned forward, a rather manic gleam in her eye. Draco leant away, sending Harry a panicked look.

"What's you secret?" she demanded.

"I don't know, Granger. I guess we just treat them like we treat everyone else."

She frowned. "No you don't. You're mean, unfeeling, abusive, and heartless towards them."

"Like I said." Draco shrugged, looking completely unrepentant. "Just like we treat everyone else."

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"If she gets caught doing this, I'm going to rip all that stupid peroxide hair from your head, weave it into a rope and strangle you with it," Ron said pleasantly to Draco the next evening, as the three of them waited impatiently in Harry's living room for Hermione to return.

"It's natural, you carrot-topped barbarian," Draco snapped back.

_:-Don't you love how he always focuses on entirely the wrong thing?-: _Lily said.

"Hush, Ron," Harry said tiredly. "You know as well as I do that this was the deal from the beginning. Draco's held up his end. We have to hold up ours."

Ron glowered. "If I'd known it would be Hermione doing the breaking out I wouldn't have agreed."

"You wouldn't?" Harry felt an unreasonable stab of hurt at that. It was stupid because he _knew_ that Ron was just desperately worried about the woman he loved.

Ron flashed a quick look at him, pausing in his pacing in front of the fire. His face twisted with the realisation of what he'd just implied. "No, mate, that's not what I meant. I just…I wish I could have learned the damn spell myself. I tried, but…well, that kind of intricate spell-work has never been my forte, has it?"

"Hermione will be fine," Harry asserted, trying to convince himself as much as Ron. "She'll break in, get Narsissa out, drop her off at Grimmauld Place, then come straight back here. No problem. In fact, it's been a couple of hours already. She should probably be well into it by now."

"I still don't see why my mother couldn't come back here," Draco said sulkily.

"Because I'm already sharing my room with one Malfoy," Harry told him. "Two would finish me off. Besides, Kreacher will take care of her very well. He almost exploded with joy when he heard a Black was going to be living in the house again."

"She's not a Black anymore."

"Once a Black, always a Black," Sirius said through Harry's mouth before Harry could stop him. "You can't just cover it up – trust me. I've tried. You've got Black blood in your veins as well, Malfoy. Blood will out – trust me. You just got to hope you got the Andromeda/Alphard/Nymphadora strain." He blinked, mind suddenly hazy.

"What was I saying?" Sirius squinted at the young man in front of him. "_Malfoy_? Lucius Malfoy? Great Godric – when did you get so pointy? Being married to my spiteful brat of a cousin taking its toll on you?"

"Shut up!" the young man snapped, eyes blazing. Grey eyes. Classic Black eyes, not Malfoy ones. This was _not _Lucius Malfoy. Sirius frowned, whipping his wand from where he felt it concealed up his sleeve. It felt wrong in his hand. His whole _hand_ felt wrong. "What the –"

There was a blinding white pain in his jaw.

Harry dropped his wand to clutch at his jaw and turned to stare at Ron in betrayal. "You hit me!"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said. He was shaking out his hand with a wince. "But it worked, didn't it? I thought of it earlier when I heard one of the customers in George's shop saying he was going to knock some sense into his friend. I thought, if your body gets a knock, it'll probably twang back to you again, won't it? Like an elastic band. You're the real owner, so you're kind of its original setting, right? Anyway, if it's any consolation, I think I just broke at least one finger. That's a hell of a hard jaw you've got on you."

Harry wished he could pick a hole in the logic, but he couldn't argue with results. "You didn't have to hit so hard," he grumbled.

"I know. I really am sorry – stressed out, you know." Ron reached out and squeezed his shoulder apologetically.

"Does this mean I get to hit you any time I want, Potter?" Draco asked.

Luckily for Draco's continued good health, the fire blazed an iridescent green before anyone could react to his comment. Hermione stumbled through, hair more frizzy than it had been since first year, a streak of soot on her cheek and her robe smoking gently.

"Hermione!" Ron launched himself forward and gathered her up into his arms. Hermione visibly sagged against him.

"Are you hurt?" Harry asked anxiously, moving forward to try and examine her around his friend's fervent embrace.

"Fine," Hermione mumbled into Ron's chest. "Though that might not continue to be the case if Ron suffocates me."

Ron chuckled in a rather watery way and loosened his grip. "Sorry, love."

"What happened?" Draco asked, pushing his way past Harry to grab Hermione's arm. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine, Malfoy. Do you know she insulted my blood heritage three times in the first five minutes without actually mentioning the words 'mudblood', 'blood', 'heritage', or 'Muggle'? It was so subtle I didn't even realise she was doing it at first."

"My Mum has refined the art of the subtle insult to perfection over the years," Draco said with a note of pride in his voice. "She can insult a person's lineage, personality, family, house and wardrobe while politely offering them a cup of tea. Other pureblood families used to send their daughters to her for lessons in etiquette."

"Could your family _get_ more messed up?" Harry asked, though he couldn't help being a little fascinated by this insight into the bizarre workings of the pureblood upper class.

"Like you're one to talk," Draco sniped back.

"Why are you all singed round the edges?" Ron asked Hermione, directing Harry's attention back to his friends.

"We experienced a little hiccough during the break out," Hermione said, pulling away from him and dropping into one of the armchairs with a sigh. "I had Narcissa hamster-fied and in my pocket, and was just about to get the lift back to the main Atrium when that Auror friend of Andromeda's got out."

"Ogborn?" Harry asked in alarm.

"Yes. He saw the guards I had cast a sleeping charm on and started to order a lockdown. I knocked him out and _Obliviated _him. But there were already people coming so I had to make a run for it – not easy when wearing the invisibility cloak, I can tell you. Aurors were pouring down into the cells, and I only just managed to slip into the lift before they called lockdown. I ran all the way to the floos and just leapt in before the flames had even gone properly green. Hence the smoking robe."

"So they know someone broke out?" Draco said, eyes wide and worried.

Hermione shook her head. "Everyone will be present and accounted for in the cells, won't they?" she said. "Althie took the potion to change into Narsissa, Bobsy was still there – looking disgustingly cheerful considering where he was, I might add. We hid all the supplies of Polyjuice in the mattresses. No one will ever know."

"They'll probably think it was Crouch breaking in to try and rescue his followers," Ron said. "Which means it'll be even longer before they officially release the prisoners." He nodded to Draco. "Looks like you're going to be in hiding for a fair bit longer, ferret."

Draco nodded gloomily, not even rising to the bait of the 'ferret' insult. "I'm guessing coercing you lot to come up with some sort of hair-brained scheme to clear our names is out of the question?"

"There are a couple of things that take priority over that," Harry agreed. "My sanity, for one."

"All right. How about if I agree to do everything I can to help you with your Master-of-Death thing, you promise to help get us released afterwards?"

"Agreed." Oddly enough, it was Hermione who answered.

Ron shot her a betrayed look. "Hermione! I understand that Harry has become infected with The Ferret's Slytherinness, but I expected better from you."

"It was a good potion," Hermione defended. "The one to change his Mum, I mean. Worked even more smoothly than the book said it was going to."

"I made adjustments," Draco said modestly.

"We need him if we want to get Harry's potion right. I was planning on starting it tomorrow, actually."

"The sooner the better," Harry agreed, rubbing his still-aching jaw.

"I am still teaching full time," Hermione said. "I won't be able to spend much time down in the dungeons brewing. The bulk of it will have to be done by Malfoy, with Portrait-Snape to guide him."

"So we're agreed then," Draco said. "I'll help you make a start on it tomorrow, Granger. We have the ingredients we need for the time being, and you've finished the translation for the potion now, haven't you?"

She nodded. "Although there are a few things we're going to need to get hold of for later on."

"Who are you?" James asked, staring at the rather sooty and frazzled looking young woman in front of him. "And who's the poncy bugger with the blonde hair? Good God, Malfoy, is that you? Is Narcissa starving you because you can't put out in the bedrooom?"

"And that," the poncy bugger said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of James without looking at him, "is something I'm really getting tired of. I could put up with the unflattering comparisons to my father – I get that I'm not looking my best at the moment – but if one more of Potter's blasted family insinuates that not only am I shagging my mother, but that I'm not doing it well, I'm going to do something drastic."


End file.
